* 


*-H  t    t 

•  ,    /v 

..- 


. 


MONNA  LISA;  OR,  THE  QUEST 
OF  THE  WOMAN  SOUL 


OP  CALIF.   T.TBPAHY.   LOS  ANGELES 


MONNA  LISA 

OR 
THE   QUEST   OF  THE   WOMAN  SOUL 


TRANSCRIBED  BY 

GUGLIELMO  SCALA 


ENDrCQTT 


NEW  YORK 

THOMAS  Y.   CROWELL  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1911, 
BY  THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  COMPANY 

Published  September,  1911. 


PREFACE 

THE  original  of  the  following  translation 
was  a  dilapidated  manuscript  discovered  in  a 
heap  of  rubbish  in  one  of  the  old  palaces  of 
Florence  which  was  undergoing  alterations. 
This  manuscript  was  undoubtedly  one  of  the 
lost  works  of  the  great  artist  Leonardo  da 
Vinci.  The  chirography  was  certainly  his, 
written  backward  with  the  left  hand,  from 
right  to  left,  and  requiring  the  use  of  a  mirror 
to  decipher  it.  There  was  also  his  character- 
istic spelling,  together  with  his  peculiar  fash- 
ion of  often  running  two  or  three  words  into 
one  to  suit  his  convenience  or  the  whim  of  the 
moment.  Besides,  many  passages  were  of 
similar  import  to  others  which  have  been 
made  known  through  the  facsimile  reproduc- 
tions of  Leonardo 's  writings,  and  from  which 
it  has  been  shown  that  it  was  a  common  habit 
of  the  artist  to  write  out  over  and  over  in 
different  phraseology  those  thoughts  that 
seemed  to  have  especially  pleased  him.  Fi- 

v 

21,12637 


vi  PEEFACE 

nally,  on  the  inside  of  the  cover — which  was 
of  gray  cardboard  and  decorated  by  Da 
Vinci's  favorite  design  of  twisted  cords  and 
knots — was  the  following  inscription,  written 
in  the  delicate  handwriting  of  the  eighteenth 
century : — 

"1753,  5  Marzo — This  codicetto  (little 
manuscript)  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci  belonged 
formerly  to  the  Signore  Don  Giambattista 
Salucci,  cavaliere  of  Milan,  but  living  in  Flor- 
ence, and  I,  Gaetano  Caccia,  of  Novara, 
bought  it  from  the  said  cavaliere  for  twenty 
gigliati." 

The  task  of  deciphering  and  translating 
this  manuscript  was  of  varying  difficulty ;  for, 
though  the  first  part  was  in  a  state  of  excel- 
lent preservation,  the  middle  of  the  book  was 
considerably  torn  and  gnawed,  probably  by 
mice,  and  much  of  the  concluding  pages  ren- 
dered illegible  by  mould.  Where  only  a  few 
words  were  missing,  which  could  be  readily 
inferred  from  the  context,  these  have  been 
supplied;  in  defective  passages  which  were 
paralleled  by  others  in  the  facsimile  publica- 
tions, the  work  of  such  learned  decipherers  of 
the  master's  handwriting  as  Kichter,  Eavais- 
son-Mollieu,  and  Uzielli  was  of  great  assist- 


PREFACE  vii 

ance ;  still,  there  were  many  portions  where  it 
was  thought  best  to  make  no  attempt  at  res- 
toration, but  to  leave  the  reader  to  supply 
from  his  own  imagination  what  was  wanting. 

It  should  be  stated,  however,  that  in  ar- 
ranging the  translation  for  publication,  the 
solid  matter  of  the  original  has  been  divided 
into  paragraphs,  chapters,  and  books ;  quota- 
tion marks  have  been  supplied;  and  many  a 
now  superfluous  dissi  (said  I)  and  disse  (said 
he  or  she)  have  been  omitted.  Also,  as  the 
codicetto  had  neither  title  nor  sub-titles, 
those  which  now  appear  have  been  inferred 
from  the  narrative. 

Shortly  after  the  translation  was  com- 
pleted the  original  manuscript  was  unfortu- 
nately destroyed  by  an  accident,  so  that  the 
following  pages  contain  all  that  survives  of 
what  was  probably  the  last  writing  of  the 
great  master  of  the  Eenaissance. 

GUGLIELMO  So  ALA. 


.CONTENTS 
BOOK  I  — SALAI 

PAGE 

PBOEMIO 3 

I.    THE  WOMAN  SOUL 7 

II.    THE  FAVORITE  PUPH. 14 

III.  IN  THE  CHURCH 20 

IV.  A  GBEAT  LADY 24 

V.    A  YOUNG  GALEOTTO 32 

VI.    THE  CONTRACT 42 

VII.    THE  FIRST  SITTINGS 46 

BOOK  II  —  LEONAKDO 

I.    THE  FLIGHT  OF  BIRDS 59 

II.    THE  ZINGABA       . 66 

III.  IN  THE  STUDIO 75 

IV.  THE  TELESCOPE 100 

V.    A  WOMAN'S  SYMPATHY 104 

BOOK  III  — LISA 

I.    YOUTHFUL  PASSION 113 

II.    A  DIFFICULTY 124 

III.    THE  CAVEBN 129 

ix 


x  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

IV.  THE  FLESH  OF  WOMAN 133 

V.  THE  BANQUET      ..........  137 

VI.  THE  LETTEBS       .     .     .     .    ,.  .    .                    .  141 

VII.  AT  THE  VILLA     ........          .  159 

VIII.  IN  THE  LOGGIA 167 

IX.  DARKNESS  AND  FLIGHT 173 

X.  A  SPIBIT  IN  PRISON 178 

XL  THE  DAGGER 184 

XII.  FRANCESCO'S  STORY 188 

XIII.  THE  BIRTH  OF  A  Soui,  . 193 

XIV.  THE  PORTRAIT 199 

XV.  CONCLUSION    .     ..    .    w    ,..    -.                          .  201 


MONNA  LISA;  OR,  THE  QUEST 
OF  THE  WOMAN  SOUL 


PUBLISHERS'  NOTE 

To  avoid  any  misconception  on  the  part  of 
readers  of  this  romance  of  "Honna  Lisa,"  the 
publishers  would  explain  that  the  work  is  one 
of  pure  fiction.  "Guglielmo  Scala"  is  the 
pen  name  adopted  by  an  American  literary 
worker  who  has  devoted  long  study  to  Italian 
art  and  literature  and  who  takes  this  method 
of  sharing  with  the  public  the  web  of  imagina- 
tion woven  for  his  own  pleasure  about  Da 
Vinci  and  the  subject  of  his  famous  portrait. 


PEOEMIO 

I,  LEONAEDO  VINCIO,  on  the  seventh  day  of 
July,  1518,  being  now  sixty-six  years  of  age, 
having  my  right  hand  paralyzed  and  incapa- 
ble of  using  the  brush  to  fix  in  colors  the  vi- 
sions of  my  imagination,  but  having  my  left 
hand  still  useful  and  capable  of  moving  the 
pen  to  record  the  thoughts  of  my  mind  and 
the  recollections  of  my  experience,  and  living 
in  my  manor-house  of  Gloux — given  me  by 
the  Most  Christian  King,  have  here  resolved 
to  write  in  this  little  book  the  history  of  my 
life  in  Florence  from  the  year  1503.  The 
matter  of  some  of  these  pages  will  consist  of 
records  of  events  and  of  conversations, 
written  by  me  at  or  near  the  time  when  they 
occurred,  other  pages  will  contain  copies  of 
letters  which  passed  between  me  and  Ma- 
donna Lisa  Gioconda — God  rest  her  soul! — 
and  the  remainder  will  be  made  up  by  my 
recollections,  which  after  twelve  years  and 

3 


4  PROEMIO 

more  are  still  fresh  in  my  mind.  In  what  I 
shall  write  my  sole  endeavor  will  be  to  tell 
the  truth  as  far  as  is  in  my  power. 


BOOK  I— SALAI 


THE   WOMAN   SOUL, 

IN  the  early  days  of  my  young  manhood, 
when  I  was  living  in  Florence  with  my  mas- 
ter Verrocchio — working  at  both  painting  and 
sculpture,  and  beginning  experiments  and 
studies  concerning  artificiosa  natura,1  there 
was  one  subject  which  I  did  not  pursue,  but 
on  the  contrary  avoided  as  much  as  possi- 
ble. And  that  was  the  study  of  the  minds 
and  souls  of  women,  or  rather  of  those  who 
were  beautiful  or  seductive.  It  may  be  that 
I  feared  their  influence  upon  me  should  I  be- 
come too  intimate  with  them,  too  absorbed  in 
them ;  for  very  early  I  had  become  convinced 
that  he  who  does  not  control  his  sensuality 
becomes  unfitted  for  giving  form  to  visions 
that  should  last  for  eternity;  and,  moreover, 
from  my  observations  of  the  painters  and 

i  There  is  no  exact  equivalent  in  English  which  will 
translate  this  phrase  so  common  in  the  writings  of  Da 
Vinci.  He  means  by  it  "  Nature  as  artificer,"  working 
under  definite  and  unchangeable  laws  laid  down  by  the 
"Creator"  or  "Prime  Mover." 

7 


8  MONNA  LISA 

sculptors  among  whom  I  lived,  I  saw  that 
those  who  made  themselves  the  companions 
of  loose  women,  nay  even  those  who  espoused 
good  women,  though  they  sometimes  acquired 
great  prosperity  in  the  things  of  this  world, 
yet,  because  they  did  not  fully  possess  them- 
selves, failed  to  manifest  in  its  plenitude 
their  inborn  virtu.1  For  the  true  painter 
should  be  a  solitary  man,  especially  when  he 
is  intent  upon  his  meditations.  Since,  if  he  is 
alone  he  is  all  his  own,  and  if  he  is  accom- 
panied by  only  one  companion  he  will  be  just 
half  his  own,  and  so  much  the  less  will  he  be 
his  own  the  more  he  multiplies  his  indiscre- 
tion. 

Therefore,  being  fully  persuaded  of  this,  if 
at  any  time  when  I  was  a  young  man  I  per- 
ceived that  the  thoughts  of  some  beautiful  or 
seductive  woman  pursued  me  when  absent 
from  her  presence  and  came  between  me  and 
my  meditations  on  my  art  or  science,  I  with- 
drew altogether  from  her  company,  lest  she 

i  There  is  no  word  or  phrase  in  English  except  of  the 
time  of  Chaucer  that  expresses  what  virtti  meant  to  the 
Italian  of  the  Renaissance.  It  connotes  force,  capability, 
talent,  courage  and  the  like,  rather  than  mere  moral  recti- 
tude. It  is  similar  to  the  Latin  virtus.  Machiavelli  could 
speak  appropriately  of  the  virtit,  of  such  a  moral  monster 
as  Cesare  Borgia. 


SALAI  9 

might  hinder  me  in  the  work  for  which  the 
Creator  had  fashioned  me — namely,  to  make 
of  myself  as  it  were  a  mirror  that  could  trans- 
mute itself  into  the  forms  and  colors  of  what- 
ever thing  it  might  have  for  an  object.  For 
that  reason  it  would  not  be  well  to  let  any 
foreign  influence  come  between  me  and  what 
I  should  reflect  in  the  truth  of  my  art. 

By  this  practice  I  so  accustomed  myself  to 
live  for  my  art  and  my  science,  that  finally  I 
could  mingle  and  hold  converse  with  women 
and  could  study  and  paint  their  faces  and 
bodies,  and  no  distracting  thoughts  would 
follow  me  to  prevent  my  meditation  upon  the 
works  of  art  which  I  planned  or  upon  the  laws 
of  nature  which  I  was  discovering  by  experi- 
ment. Moreover,  when  I  was  an  engineer  in 
the  service  of  the  Diodario  of  Syria,  after  my 
first  departure  from  Florence,  I  often  heard 
the  Mahometans  say  that  women  had  no  souls, 
and  sometimes  when  I  was  among  them  I  was 
even  inclined  to  agree  with  them — so  different 
from  the  operations  of  the  divine  reason  of 
man  were  the  workings  of  women 's  minds. 
But  when  I  returned  to  my  own  land  and  saw 
the  people  paying  great  honor  and  worship  to 
a  woman  because  she  was  the  Mother  of  God, 


10  MONNA  LISA 

when  I  saw  how  much  less  barbarous  these 
people  were  because  they  so  honored  her  and 
all  women  in  her,  when  I  recalled  what  great 
things  had  been  achieved  by  Christian  women, 
how  many  noble  saints  and  martyrs  had  come 
from  among  them  to  glorify  God,  how  Bea- 
trice Portinari  had  been  the  inspiration  of  our 
divine  Dante,  how  the  sainted  Catherine  of 
Sienna  had  been  the  only  one  able  to  bring 
back  the  Most  High  Pontiff  from  the  Babylon- 
ish Captivity  at  Avignon,  and  when  I  remem- 
bered also  that  women  are  the  mothers  of 
men,  I  knew  that  they  must  be  possessed  of  a 
soul,  however  different  it  might  be  from  the 
wondrous  soul  of  man.  Just  as  the  bodies  of 
women  are  like  unto  those  of  men  in  that 
nearly  all  the  members  are  similar,  and  yet 
they  differ  marvellously  in  both  perfections 
and  imperfections,  so  must  it  be  with  the 
woman  soul — alike  and  yet  unlike  to  that  of 
man.  And  I  thought  that  if  I  were  able  to 
discover  in  just  what  things  that  difference 
consists,  then  I  should  of  a  truth  know  all  of 
the  woman  soul  that  can  be  known  by  any 
male  being. 

So  with  this  thought,  when  I  first  entered 
the  service  of  Ludovico  il  Moro  at  Milan,  hav- 


SALAI  11 

ing  no  longer  any  fear  of  sensual  desire,  I 
mingled  again  in  the  society  of  women.  I 
had  at  that  time  much  opportunity  of  convers- 
ing with  those  of  all  kinds  and  degrees — the 
noble  and  well-instructed  ladies  of  the  court, 
the  light  and  brilliant  women  of  the  town,  the 
sedate  and  virtuous  wives  of  the  burghers,  the 
simple  and  often  honest  helpmates  of  the 
laborers  and  peasants,  the  old  and  the  young, 
the  ugly  and  the  beautiful,  the  ordinary  and 
the  exceptional.  I  drew  and  painted  their 
faces  and  figures  and  observed  carefully  their 
words  and  actions.  But  though  at  first  I 
seemed  to  make  some  progress  in  the  discov- 
ery of  what  the  woman  soul  might  be,  yet  soon 
was  I  baffled  in  every  case  by  the  cloud  of  de- 
ceit and  falsehood  that  each  woman  cast  about 
her,  when  she  perceived  that  I  wished  to  learn 
what  she  really  was  in  herself. 

Now  I  know  well  that  there  is  much  of  false- 
hood in  man  also ;  but  it  is  certain  that  while 
he  may  use  falsehood  to  accomplish  his  pur- 
poses, not  only  the  base  but  also  the  good — as 
when  holy  friars  deceive  the  stupid  people  in 
order  to  lead  them  to  God — yet,  with  a  few 
exceptions,  man,  in  his  inmost  heart,  loves  and 
desires  the  truth  for  himself,  even  when  he 


12  MONNA  LISA 

denies  it  to  others.  But  woman,  as  I  then 
thought,  seemed  to  love  falsehood  for  itself, 
to  delight  in  it,  and  to  clothe  herself  in  it. 
Moreover,  with  man,  falsehood  seemed  like 
the  shadows  of  daytime,  which,  while  conceal- 
ing some  things,  render  others  more  evident 
by  showing  them  in  relief;  but  with  women 
falsehood  seemed  like  the  shadows  of  night, 
distorting,  obscuring,  and  hiding  everything 
— only  here  and  there  pierced  by  small  and 
dim  lights,  and  those  in  truth  artificial  and 
misleading.  It  may  be  that  woman  like  other 
weak  animals  strives  to  protect  herself  from 
man  by  seeking  the  shadows  of  falsehood  and 
guile — I  know  not ;  yet  it  is  certain  that  I  did 
not  find  in  those  days  any  woman  who,  when 
she  discovered  that  some  one  was  desirous  of 
knowing  all  that  was  in  her  soul,  would  not 
immediately  shroud  herself  in  deceit  and  so 
baffle  all  further  knowledge. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  this,  I  was  able  to  discover  a 
few  facts;  namely,  that  woman,  being  weak, 
loves  power — especially  over  those  who  are 
stronger  than  she — and  often  acquires  great 
influence  over  man  by  a  subtle  knowledge  of 
his  weaknesses,  particularly  of  those  weak- 
nesses which  are  due  to  his  animal  nature; 


SALAI  13 

and  also  that  because  of  her  love  of  falsehood 
woman  has  no  sense  of  justice,  which  is  truth 
made  manifest  in  thought,  nor  of  friendship, 
which  is  truth 'made  manifest  in  action.  But 
of  these  and  of  other  similar  matters  I  shall 
not  write  further  because  they  are  clearly  and 
wittily  set  forth  in  the  book  entitled  11  Man- 
ganello,  which  I  was  much  given  to  reading  at 
that  time. 

Nevertheless  I  remained  certain  that  there 
was  something  in  woman  behind  these  faults 
and  shortcomings,  an  elusive  something  *  I 
had  not  yet  known,  but  the  effects  of  which  I 
had  seen  in  the  ineffable  smile  that  at  times 
glorifies  the  face  of  woman,  and  which  I  had 
often  endeavored  to  paint  upon  the  features 
of  saints  and  madonnas.  In  that  elusive 
something  I  felt  must  be  the  cause  that  made 
the  woman  soul  a  different  thing  from  the 
soul  of  man.  And  I  was  certain  that  if  I 
could  know  what  it  was  I  should  love  it,  and 
that  it  was  because  I  had  not  been  able  to 
obtain  any  sure  knowledge  of  the  woman  soul 
that  I  had  completed  a  half-century  of  life 
without  having  ever  loved  a  woman. 

i  "Un  non  so  che"  in  the  original, 


n 

THE     FAVOBITE     PUPIL 

SUCH  were  my  opinions  of  women,  when, 
in  1503,  I  once  more  enrolled  myself  in  the 
guild  of  the  painters  of  Florence,  and,  after 
four  years  of  wandering,  decided  to  make 
that  city  my  home  for  the  remainder  of  my 
life.  Among  the  servants  and  pupils  then 
living  with  me  were  Giacomo,  whom  I  had 
cured  of  his  thievish  tricks  and  had  made 
a  faithful  servant,  Galeazzo,  Gian  Antonio, 
Tommaso,  Julio  Tedesco,  and  Andrea  Salai. 
Of  all  these  I  loved  Salai  the  most.  He  had 
come  to  me  eight  years  before  at  Milan,  his 
father  being  a  Hungarian  soldier,  his  mother 
a  Neapolitan  woman.  At  that  time  he  was 
but  a  child,  yet  full  of  bodily  grace  and 
beauty,  and  with  a  heart  overflowing  with 
affection  toward  me,  his  master.  He  loved 
beautiful  raiment,  which  was  but  fitting  and 
proper  in  his  case,  and  it  pleased  me  also  to 
attire  him  in  the  very  best,  albeit  he  was 

14 


SALAI  15 

most  beautiful  when  unclothed.  Yet  he, 
though  he  loved  me  much,  would  sometimes 
pilfer  from  me  a  few  soldi  from  the  sums 
received  in  change;  but  perforce  I  always 
forgave  him,  for  he  was  so  beautiful  in  his 
penitence  that  it  was  impossible  to  harden 
my  heart  against  him.  And  I  must  say  that 
on  every  occasion  when  I  entrusted  him  with 
large  sums  he  was  always  most  accurate  and 
faithful. 

Now  at  this  time  he  was  in  the  full  bloom 
of  his  youth.  I  knew  well  the  many  tempta- 
tions that  beset  him,  for  I  could  not  prevent 
light  women  from  seeing  that  he  was  beauti- 
ful. I  also  knew  that  frequently  he  yielded. 
Yet  in  the  matter  of  sensual  love  the  young 
merit  more  compassion  than  blame,  while 
the  old  merit  more  blame  than  compassion. 
Therefore,  while  I  refrained  from  being 
harsh  with  him,  and  so  driving  him  away 
from  me,  yet  I  did  all  in  my  power  to  show 
him  that  if  he  did  not  curb  his  sensuality  he 
might  as  well  walk  on  all  fours,  and  also 
that  the  chief  remedy  for  such  fevers  was 
greater  application  to  his  work  as  a  painter. 
For  indeed  by  this  time  he  had  learned  to 
paint  excellently,  though  the  chief  fault  in 


16  MONNA  LISA 

his  work  was  that  it  was  too  much  an  imita- 
tion of  me,  his  master. 

Again,  in  order  also  to  draw  him  away 
from  light  women,  I  would  often  speak  to 
him  of  the  woman  soul,  and  how  all  the  love 
of  the  body  is  but  as  the  dark  soil  out  of 
which  springs  into  the  free  air  of  heaven  the 
perfect  flower,  the  love  of  the  soul,  the  love 
of  celestial  harmony  and  beauty.  And  I 
showed  him  how  I  was  endeavoring  to  ex- 
press some  part  of  that  celestial  beauty  and 
harmony  in  the  faces  of  the  Holy  Virgin 
and  of  her  mother,  the  blessed  St.  Anne,  on 
the  cartoon  of  which  picture  I  was  at  this 
time  working. 

In  this  talk  of  the  woman  soul,  Salai  grew 
greatly  interested,  for  his  was  truly  a  beauti- 
ful, though — alas! — not  a  great  soul.  And 
he  too  endeavored  to  see  traces  of  this  soul 
on  the  faces  of  women,  and  also  endeavored 
to  reproduce  it  with  his  brush.  Moreover,  as 
he  advanced  in  thought  and  feeling,  he  be- 
came less  subject  to  feminine  temptation, 
and  more  expert  in  his  art,  and  more  did  he 
draw  my  heart  unto  him,  until  the  confidence 
that  existed  between  us  was  not  like  that  be- 


SALAI  17 

tween  master  and  pupil,  but  rather  that  be- 
tween a  father  and  a  dearly  loved  son. 

One  day  he  came  running  to  me  in  great 
excitement  and  exclaimed: 

11  Master!  Master!  I  have  seen  it!  I 
have  seen  it,  and  it  is  perfection." 

"What  is  it  that  is  perfection?"  I  asked. 

"0  Master!"  he  replied,  "it  is  the  woman 
soul.  I  have  seen  it  in  the  face  of  a  great 
lady  as  she  came  out  of  the  Church  of  Santa 
Maria  Novella.  She  smiled  on  me,  and  she 
is  the  woman  soul  for  whom  you  have  been 
seeking  these  many  years." 

Then  I  said  laughing:  "You  have  allowed 
yourself  to  be  carried  away  by  your  youth- 
ful imagination,  to  which  every  beautiful 
woman  is  a  saint,  an  angel,  a  goddess,  though 
in  truth  she  may  be  the  most  malignant  of 
devils." 

"No,  no,  Master!"  he  cried.  "I  know 
that  I  am  not  misled.  I  have  seen  many  a 
woman  with  as  beautiful  features,  as  radiant 
color,  as  perfect  a  figure;  but  never  have  I 
seen  on  any  face  the  look,  the  smile,  that  I 
saw  on  hers.  Oh !  it  far  surpasses  that  won- 
derful smile  of  your  Saint  Anne.  I  tell  you 


18  MONNA  LISA 

it  is  the  woman  soul,  and  you — you — the 
only  one  in  the  world  who  can  paint  it — must 
come  and  see." 

"But,  Drea,  can  Leonardo,  the  famous 
painter,  whose  hair  is  already  turning  gray, 
can  he  loiter  about  a  church  door  like  a 
young  fop  to  see  a  pretty  woman  come  from 
her  devotions,  and  wait  for  a  passing 
smile?" 

Then  Salai  became  impatient,  nay,  almost 
angry  with  me,  and  exclaimed:  "You  must 
be  growing  old,  Master,  since  you  refuse  the 
opportunity  of  seeing  what  all  your  life  you 
have  longed  to  see — and  it  is  so  little  trouble. 
The  church  is  not  very  far — she  goes  there 
to  mass  every  Sunday — often  in  the  week  to 
pray — I  have  found  this  out  from  a  beggar 
woman  who  sits  by  the  door.  To-morrow  is 
Sunday — should  not  Leonardo  sometimes 
hear  mass?  You  need  not  wait  about  for 
her.  I  will  find  her  and  take  you  where 
you  can  see  her  and  not  be  observed.  It  is 
but  a  little  thing  to  do ;  yet  a  great  thing  to 
see." 

But  I  replied  sadly:  "If  I  were  of  your 
years,  Drea,  I  should,  like  you,  be  wild  with 
anticipation,  for  I  see  your  wits  have  been 


SALAI  19 

completely  overthrown  because  a  great  lady 
has  perchance  smiled  on  you;  but  I  have 
seen  too  many  women,  too  many  great 
ladies — " 

Here  he  interrupted  me,  pouring  forth  a 
rhapsody  upon  the  lady,  and  concluding 
with,  "Master,  I  ask  but  one  thing.  It  needs 
but  one  look.  You  will  give  it,  and,  if  I  am 
wrong,  never  love  your  Drea  any  more,  but 
send  me  away  as  a  liar  and  deceiver." 

And  so  insistent  was  he  that  I  was  forced 
to  agree  to  attend  mass  with  him  the  follow- 
ing morning. 


in 

IN  THE   CHUEOH 

THE  next  morning  I  was  aroused  by  Salai, 
who  assisted  me  to  dress,  attiring  me  in  my 
best  tunic  and  cloak,  and,  as  it  were,  led  me 
to  the  aforesaid  church  a  little  before  the 
time  for  mass.  There  he  lingered  at  the 
door,  as  the  beggar  woman  told  him  that  the 
lady  was  not  yet  come,  and  I  proceeded  into 
the  church. 

After  looking  for  a  time  at  the  admirable 
fresco  near  the  entrance  by  Maso,  the  Flor- 
entine, who  brought  back  our  painters  to  the 
study  of  Nature,  I  walked  down  the  nave. 
There  I  admired  the  ingenious  artifice  of 
Fra  Sisto  and  Fra  Eistori,  who  had  known 
so  well  how  to  make  use  of  the  laws  of  per- 
spective to  increase  the  apparent  size  of  the 
Church,  and,  coming  to  the  chapel  of  Filip- 
pino  Strozzi,  I  examined  very  carefully  the 
frescoes  of  my  friend,  Filippino  Lippi, 
being  particularly  pleased  by  his  having  rep- 

20 


SALAI  21 

resented  things  to  the  best  of  his  ability  in 
accordance  with  the  truth  of  Nature. 
Thence,  passing  by  the  high  altar,  where  the 
acolytes  were  beginning  to  light  the  candles, 
I  came  to  the  steps  that  lead  up  to  the  Strozzi 
chapel,  whose  walls  are  defaced  by  the  futile 
labor  of  the  degenerate  imitators  of  the 
great  master,  Giotto. 

At  that  place  I  stopped  suddenly,  for  be- 
fore me  was  a  lady,  attired  in  black,  kneel- 
ing near  the  door  of  the  Sepolcreto,  and 
telling  her  beads.  There  was  in  her  up- 
turned face  something  that  brought  before 
me  a  vision  of  Our  Lady  at  the  foot  of  the 
cross.  So  absorbed  in  her  devotions  was 
she,  that  she  did  not  notice  me  as  I  stood 
there  gazing  at  her,  half  inclined  to  kneel 
down,  and  at  her  side  to  worship  the  Su- 
preme Author  of  our  being.  A  moment 
later  I  felt  someone  twitch  my  cloak,  and 
turning  saw  Salai,  who  had  been  searching 
for  me,  and  who,  much  excited,  whispered: 

* '  She  has  entered  the  church ! ' '  Then,  see- 
ing the  kneeling  woman,  he  added  hastily, 
"Hush !  there  she  is !  Was  I  not  right,  Mas- 
ter?" 

Just  then  the  lady,  either  because  she  had 


22  MONNA  LISA 

finished  telling  her  rosary,  or  because  she 
had  been  disturbed  by  Salai's  voice,  arose, 
and  seeing  us  gazing  at  her,  went  to  join  the 
worshippers  before  the  altar,  giving  us  in 
passing  a  frank  and  free  glance,  such  as 
noble  ladies  are  wont  to  use  when  they  see 
the  admiration  they  awaken. 

I  walked  back  to  the  door,  intending  to 
go  to  my  house ;  but  the  face  of  the  lady  pre- 
vented me  from  leaving  the  church.  I  lin- 
gered near  the  entrance,  angry  with  Salai 
for  having  brought  me  thither,  and  angry 
with  myself  for  not  being  able  to  go  out  into 
the  bright  sunlight,  and,  under  the  clear  blue 
of  the  sky,  drive  away  that  face  which  held 
me  there.  Such  a  thing  had  not  happened 
to  me  since  I  had  departed  for  Syria.  It  was 
not  possible  that  I,  Leonardo,  who  had 
counted  fifty  years,  who  had  observed  and 
studied  artificiosa  natura  and  mankind  so 
much,  should  be  so  moved  by  the  face  of  a 
woman — unless,  perhaps,  it  might  be  some 
manifestation  of  the  woman  soul  that  I  had 
seen  there. 

Salai,  perceiving  how  greatly  I  was  dis- 
turbed in  mind,  wisely  remained  silent,  gaz- 
ing up  the  nave  to  where  he  could  see  the 


SALAI  23 

dark  clad  figure  kneeling  among  the  wor- 
shippers. The  mass  seemed  very  long  and 
the  tedious  intoning  of  the  officiant  well-nigh 
intolerable.  At  last  when,  the  service  being 
ended,  the  worshippers  began  to  disperse, 
Salai  stationed  himself  by  the  door,  and  as 
the  lady  came  near,  presented  her  with  the 
holy  water.  She  smiled  her  thanks,  giving 
me  also  a  passing  glance  as  she  went  by — 
Salai  after  her.  I,  indeed,  tried  to  detain 
him,  but  he  shook  himself  free,  and  followed 
her  into  the  sunlight. 

For  some  time  I  remained  in  the  dim  and 
deserted  church,  questioning  myself  as  to 
whether  Salai  were  right  or  not,  and  if  in 
this  lady's  smile  were  really  the  woman  soul, 
and  not  a  false  will-o'-the-wisp,  which  bor- 
rows the  appearance  of  a  friendly  light  to 
lead  wandering  men  to  their  destruction. 
For,  of  a  truth,  in  all  my  life  I  had  never 
seen  anything  like  unto  her  smile. 


IV 

A    GREAT    LADY 

I  LEFT  the  church  and  wandered  through 
the  shady  streets  to  the  Batisterio.  I  tried 
to  gaze  upon  Ghiberti's  gates,  but  the  face 
of  the  woman  came  between  me  and  the  ad- 
mirable work  of  the  master,  neither  could  I 
enjoy  the  perfection  of  Giotto's  Campanile, 
nor  the  grandeur  of  Brunelleschi's  dome  for 
the  same  reason;  and  a  like  thing  occurred 
in  the  presence  of  the  work  of  my  old  master 
at  Or  San  Michele.  So,  with  the  face  and 
the  smile  ever  before  me  I  passed  beyond 
the  Palazzo  dei  Priori  and  the  beautiful  Log- 
gia dei  Signori  and  came  to  the  Ponte 
Vecchio,  which  I  crossed  and  proceeded  fur- 
ther to  where,  hard  by  the  great  unfinished 
house  of  Luca  Pitti,  was  the  dwelling  of 
Messer  Niccolo  Machiavelli.  With  him  I 
had  become  acquainted  when  I  was  serving 
Duke  Valentino  as  an  engineer  in  Umbria  and 
the  Eomagna,  Messer  Niccolo  being  at  that 

24 


SALAI  25 

time  an  envoy  from  Florence  at  the  court  of 
the  duke. 

By  good  fortune  he  was  at  home.  He 
greeted  me  cordially  and  took  me  into  his 
library,  where  he  was  working  upon  a  book 
that  he  told  me  was  to  be  to  the  laws  which 
govern  the  actions  of  men  in  matters  of  war 
and  politics  what  my  studies  are  to  the  laws 
that  rule  artificiosa  natura.  He  made  me 
break  bread  with  him,  and  we  discoursed 
long  upon  questions  of  grave  import,  namely, 
the  best  manner  in  which  the  mass  of 
thoughtless  men,  who  have  no  care  but  the 
acquisition  of  material  riches  and  the  pur- 
suit of  sensual  pleasure,  should  be  governed 
by  men  of  virtu,  who  know  the  real  signifi- 
cance of  life  and  are  not  led  astray  by  its 
vain  semblances  and  superstitions. 

Messer  Niccolo  also  questioned  me  much 
about  my  own  studies  and  discoveries  in 
anatomy,  astronomy,  mathematics,  and  me- 
chanics, being  especially  interested  in  my  de- 
signs for  new  weapons — for  example,  one 
for  great  cannon,  which  could  be  loaded  from 
the  breech  and  so  be  fired  more  rapidly,  and 
one  for  grouping  many  barrels  of  arquebuses 
together,  either  parallel  or  spreading  like  a 


26  MONNA  LISA 

fan  (said  barrels  to  be  fired  in  succession  by 
a  ratchet  wheel),  besides  many  other  designs 
of  a  similar  character.  And  in  all  his  ques- 
tions and  observations  and  judgments  he 
filled  me  with  admiration  because  of  the  ex- 
ceeding greatness  of  his  mind,  for  he,  like 
few  of  the  present  time,  is  able  to  think  about 
the  abstract  laws  of  Nature,  as  well  as  about 
the  practical  results  and  effects  which  fol- 
low from  them. 

And,  as  our  discourse  proceeded  in  this 
fashion,  the  vision  of  the  lady's  face  and  of 
her  smile  faded  away  from  me,  and  about 
sunset  I  returned  to  my  house,  the  same 
Leonardo  that  had  entered  the  Church  of 
Santa  Maria  Novella  in  the  morning. 

There  I  found  Salai,  anxiously  waiting 
to  tell  me  that  he  had  discovered  who  the 
lady  was.  He  had  followed  her  at  a  respect- 
ful distance  until  he  had  seen  her  enter 
her  house  in  the  Via  dell'  Amore,  but  a  few 
steps  from  the  Piazza  Vecchia,  and  by  artful 
inquiries  among  the  shop  keepers  who  lived 
hard  by,  had  learned  that  the  house  belonged 
to  Messer  Francesco  Giocondo,  and  that  the 
lady,  who  was  about  thirty  years  of  uge,  was 
his  third  wife.  Salai  had  also  discovered 


SALAI  27 

that  her  name  was  Lisa,  and  that  she  was 
not  a  Florentine,  though  her  family  was  a 
branch  of  our  own  Gherardini,  but  she  had 
been  born  in  Naples  (her  mother  being  a  na- 
tive of  that  place)  which  accounted  for  the 
fact  that  her  appearance  differed  so  much 
from  that  of  the  women  of  our  city.  More- 
over, she  had  lost  an  only  child,  an  infant 
daughter,  who  was  buried  in  the  Sepolcreto 
of  Santa  Maria  Novella,  and  that  was  why 
she  went  there  so  often  to  pray. 

Then  I  recollected  that  Messer  Francesco 
was  one  of  our  buonomini,  and  that  I  had 
met  him  not  long  before  in  the  Hall  of  the 
Grand  Council,  in  connection  with  the  dis- 
cussion of  the  Gonfalonier's  plan  to  have  the 
walls  of  the  said  hall  adorned  by  great  paint- 
ings. I  also  recalled  that  when  some  opposi- 
tion was  made  on  account  of  the  expense, 
Messer  Francesco  had  taken  the  part  of  the 
Gonfalonier,  and  had  spoken  at  some  length, 
showing  not  only  a  good  judgment  in  prac- 
tical matters,  but  manifesting  also  a  con- 
siderable knowledge  and  love  of  art.  I 
heard  afterwards  that  he  was  highly  es- 
teemed by  all  the  great  merchants  and  bank- 
ers and  was  also  a  generous  patron  of  artists, 


28  MONNA  LISA 

having  had  painted  at  a  large  price  an  altar 
piece  by  Puligo  for  the  Giocondo  chapel  in 
the  church  of  the  Santissima  Nunziata. 

This  lady,  then,  she  with  the  subtle  smile, 
was  his  wife,  a  patrician,  one  of  the  great 
ladies  of  Florence,  and  I  was  glad  that  the 
wise  discourse  of  Messer  Niccolo  had  driven 
her  face  from  my  mind.  For  I  had  often  ob- 
served that  there  is  nothing  so  likely  to  ex- 
tinguish the  soul  as  the  daily  life  of  the  rich 
and  noble,  with  its  flood  of  material  things 
and  corporeal  pleasures  submerging  the 
mind  and  preventing  one  from  ever  thinking 
of  real  worth.  I  had  also  often  noticed  in 
the  conversation  of  great  ladies,  even  those 
of  great  wit  and  well  instructed,  a  certain 
lack  of  consequence,  a  constant  flitting  from 
one  idea  to  another,  like  the  butterfly  which 
flutters  about  from  flower  to  flower,  and  not 
like  the  bee  which  holds  possession  until  jit^ 
has  extracted  all  the  honey  the  flower  .<&m- 
"  fains.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the  very  multi- 
tude of  beautiful  and  interesting  things,  with 
which  rich  and  noble  women  were  ever  sur- 
rounded, in  itself  distracted  them  and  kept 
them  sometimes  from  discovering  that  they 


SALAI  29 

had  any  souls  at  all.  Had  this  lady  been  a 
woman  of  a  simpler  manner  of  life,  I  might 
have  been  tempted  to  ask  her  to  sit  for  me, 
and  while  painting  her  to  try  to  find  out  if 
the  woman  soul  were  concealed  behind  that 
subtle  smile;  but  as  it  was,  I  laughed  and 
said  to  Salai: 

"Dear  Drea,  if  I  am  ever  tempted  to  leave 
the  realms  of  art  and  science  and  engage  in 
the  mighty  matters  of  war  and  politics,  I 
shall  certainly  employ  you  as  my  chief  envoy, 
for  you  have  found  out  more  about  this  lady 
in  a  few  hours  than  I  could  in  as  many  days. 
But,  as  you  know  well,  I  am  at  present  much 
busied  with  various  weighty  matters,  and 
how  can  I  allow  a  little  woman,  just  because 
she  has  a  handsome  figure,  a  fair  face,  and  a 
gracious  smile,  to  come  between  me  and  what 
I  must  needs  perform!" 

"But,  Master,  there  is  no  woman  like  her," 
exclaimed  Salai,  who  was  much  excited. 
"And  one  woman  like  her  is  worth  all  the 
arts,  all  the  sciences,  all  the  practical  works 
in  the  world." 

"Dear  child,  you  think  thus  because  you 
are  young,  and  the  hot  blood  courses  freely 


30  MONNA  LISA 

through  your  arteries  and  veins,1  and,  get- 
ting into  the  orbs  of  your  eyes,  prevents  you 
from  seeing  clearly.  But  when  your  blood 
flows  more  calmly  as  mine  does,  you  will  see 
women  as  they  really  are,  and  will  know  that 
there  are  many  things  in  this  world  of  far 
more  worth  than  they.  Now  listen  to  a  little 
story." 

"I  listen,  Master,"  Salai  replied  with  a 
weary  look  of  submission;  but  I,  not  heeding 
this,  went  on  as  follows: 

"A  sick  man,  being  at  the  point  of  death, 
and  hearing  some  one  knocking  at  the  door, 
asked  one  of  his  servants  who  it  was.  And 
the  servant  replied  that  it  was  one  who 
called  herself  'Madonna  Bona'  [good 
woman].  Then  the  sick  man  raising  his 
hands  thanked  God  in  a  loud  voice,  and  said 
to  the  servant  that  he  should  let  this  lady 
enter  quickly,  to  the  end  that  he  might  be 
able  to  see  one  good  woman  [una  donna 
bona]  before  he  died,  because  in  all  his  life 
he  had  never  seen  a  single  one. ' ' 

Salai  listened  patiently  until  I  had  finished, 
but  then  rising  hastily,  he  cried :  '  *  Master,  I 

i  This  passage  evidently  shows  that  Da  Vinci  had  some 
notion  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood  more  than  a  century 
before  the  celebrated  William  Harvey. 


SALAI  31 

do  not  understand  you.  All  your  life  you 
have  searched  for  the  woman  soul,  and  now 
when  she  is  under  your  hand  you  turn  away 
from  her.  With  all  your  knowledge  and  wis- 
dom you  will  never  find  her,  will  never  know 
her — but  I  will."  And  so  speaking  he  flung 
himself  out  of  the  house. 


A    YOUNG     GALEOTTO 

AFTER  this  Salai  frequently  absented  him- 
self and  neglected  not  only  his  own  painting 
but  also  the  services  which  were  due  to  me. 
Nevertheless  he  begged  me  for  money  to 
have  a  new  cloak  made  and  also  a  pair  of 
shoes  turned  with  rose  color.  The  former 
cost  more  than  thirty-five  lire  and  the  latter 
full  two  ducats;  and  yet  the  young  rascal 
robbed  me  of  the  few  soldi  change,  but  I  did 
not  upbraid  him,  for  the  memory  of  benefits 
is  very  fragile  where  there  is  ingratitude. 
I  also  marked  that  he  was  much  more  serious 
than  was  his  wont,  which  made  me  think 
that  he  was  becoming  involved  in  some  love, 
higher  and  truer  than  the  frivolous  caprices 
which  had  hitherto  distracted  him;  and, 
knowing  his  youth,  his  beauty,  and  his  na- 
ture, this  might  perhaps  be  more  of  a  bene- 
fit to  him  than  an  evil,  for  the  passion  of  the 

soul  drives  away  sensuality.    Nor  did  I  ques- 
32 


SALAI  33 

tion  him  about  this  matter,  although  his  pre- 
occupation and  his  absences  increased  as 
time  went  on;  since  I  knew  well  that  if  he 
wished  to  confide  in  me  he  would  tell  me  in 
his  own  good  time  when  he  needed  my  advice 
and  assistance,  and  to  ask  him  any  questions 
before  this  would  be  but  to  drive  him  into 
falsehood. 

Besides  I  was  occupied  with  a  multitude  of 
objects  and  therefore  could  not  give  as  much 
thought  to  my  beloved  pupil  as  I  had  for- 
merly done.  In  the  first  place  I  was  making 
studies  for  my  Ladftr-and  f°r  a  Madonna  I 
had  promised  Her  Excellency,  the  Marchion- 
ess of  Mantua,  and  was  painting  a  little  pic- 
ture for  the  Sieur  de  Eobertet,  who  had  been 
of  great  service  to  me  after  the  downfall  of 
II  Moro.  Then  I  finished  the  cartoon  of  the 
Virgin  and  St.  Anne,  and  it  was  exhibited 
in  the  convent  of  the  Servites,  all  the  artists 
of  Florence  as  well  as  great  crowds  of  the 
populace  going  to  view  it.  And,  mayhap  on 
account  of  this  it  was  finally  decided  that  I 
should  undertake  the  decoration  of  the  Hall  of 
the  Grand  Council — though  the  friends  of 
Messer  Michel  Angelo  Buonarroti  procured 
that  he  should  divide  the  work  with  me,  per- 


34  MONNA  LISA 

haps  to  see  which,  of  us  two  was  the  greater 
artist.  Be  this  as  it  may,  my  subject  was  the 
Battle  of  Anghiari,  and  I  must  needs  study  all 
the  incidents  of  that  noted  conflict  and  medi- 
tate deeply  upon  the  manner  in  which  I  could 
fittingly  set  forth  the  glory  gained  by  Flor- 
ence on  that  fortunate  day.  Moreover  I  was 
frequently  absent  from  the  city,  planning  and 
superintending  the  works  of  our  besieging 
army  at  Pisa,  including  a  design  for  divert- 
ing the  course  of  the  Arno  from  that  city; 
and,  finally,  at  every  spare  moment  I  was 
pursuing  my  studies  in  the  theorems  of  that 
science  of  sciences,  geometry,  and  in  the  ap- 
plication of  these  to  mechanics  and  to  the 
sciences  of  artificiosa  natura. 

One  day,  when  I  was  deep  in  the  study  of 
a  problem  concerning  the  sections  of  cones, 
Salai  burst  into  the  room;  but  seeing  how 
I  was  occupied,  he  stopped  suddenly  and 
asked : 

" Master,  have  you  time  to  hear  me?  It  is 
of  the  greatest  importance. ' ' 

Observing  how  excited  he  was,  I  laid  aside 
my  work,  for  his  sudden  entrance  had  broken 
the  connection  of  my  thoughts,  and  I  an- 
swered that  I  was  ready  to  hear  anything. 


SALAI  35 

Then  the  youth,  with  many  excuses  and 
blushes  and  with  frequent  repetitions,  told 
me  that,  after  the  day  that  he  had  beheld 
Madonna  Lisa  Gioconda,  he  had  often  waited 
about  to  see  her  at  the  church,  and  had  even 
followed  her  to  her  home  in  the  Via  dell' 
Amore,  but  so  respectfully  that  he  had  never 
been  rebuked.  And  one  day  as  she  returned 
home  with  a  serving  woman,  he  following  as 
was  his  wont,  she  had  stopped  at  her  door 
and  accosted  him  as  he  passed.  "Who  are 
you  ? ' '  she  had  asked.  *  *  I  am  Andrea  Salai, ' ' 
he  replied,  "the  servant  and  pupil  of  the 
great  master  Leonardo  Vincio."  "And  does 
he  send  you  to  follow  me?" — 

Here  I,  seized  by  a  sudden  fit  of  anger 
cried  out:  "What  do  you  mean,  you  rascal, 
by  involving  me  in  your  mad  pranks  ? ' ' 

But  he  blushing  said:  "No,  Master,  I 
have  not  involved  you  in  any  manner,  for  I 
answered  her  that  you  knew  nothing  of  my 
following  her,  and  indeed,  that  you  would  not 
allow  it  if  you  did;  but  I  had  been  impelled 
by  an  irresistible  desire  to  follow  her,  so 
that  perchance  from  time  to  time  I  might 
have  the  privilege  of  beholding  her  beauty.'* 

"And  did   she   call   out  her  lackeys,"   I 


36  MONNA  LISA 

asked,  * '  and  order  them  to  cudgel  you  as  you 
so  richly  deserved?" 

"By  no  means,  Master,"  he  replied.  "On 
the  contrary,  she  smiled  with  that  marvellous 
smile,  which  is  like  the  sun  bursting  through 
the  clouds,  and  asked  me  to  enter  the  house, 
for  she  would  have  some  conversation  with 
me,  and  said  if  I  would  answer  her  questions 
truly,  I  might,  as  a  small  reward  gaze  upon 
her  poor  beauty  as  much  as  I  pleased.  So 
she  went  in,  and  I  followed  her. ' ' 

1 '  Indeed,  youth  is  willing  to  dare  all  things 
— not  because  it  is  brave,  but  because  it 
does  not  know  what  danger  is,"  I  said  laugh- 
ing. "But  what  were  the  questions  she 
asked  you,  you  young  scapegrace?" 

"They  were  mainly  about  you,  Master — 
how  long  you  expected  to  abide  in  Florence? 
were  you  still  dwelling  with  the  Servites? 
what  was  your  manner  of  living?  upon  what 
works  were  you  now  employed?  and  what 
were  your  plans  for  the  great  picture  in  the 
Hall  of  the  Grand  Council?  And  these  ques- 
tions I  answered  as  well  as  I  was  able." 

"But  did  she  ask  you  nothing  about  your- 
self, Drea?" 

"Yes,  somewhat  about  my  parentage  and 


SALAI  37 

my  prospects,  but  more  about  my  relations 
to  you,  and  what  I  thought  of  you,  of  your 
character,  and  of  your  works." 

I  laughed  and  said:  "I  hope  you  gave  me 
a  good  character,  Drea.  'Tis  said  that  serv- 
ants know  more  about  their  masters  than  any- 
one else." 

Hereat  the  youth  seemed  a  little  offended 
and  said  proudly :  "I  have  lived  long  enough 
with  Leonardo  Vincio  for  you  to  know  what 
I  perforce  must  say."  And  then  he  went 
on  to  tell  that  she  had  caused  him  to  return 
from  time  to  time,  to  play  the  lute  and  sing 
to  her  when  she  was  sad,  and  once  or  twice 
to  sing  at  banquets  that  Messer  Francesco 
had  given  to  his  friends ;  but  at  no  time  had 
she  allowed  him  to  forget  for  an  instant  what 
was  due  her  from  one  of  his  station.  "For, 
Master,"  he  concluded,  with  enthusiasm, 
"she  is  the  noblest,  the  purest,  the  most  vir- 
tuous, as  well  as  the  fairest  lady  in  the  world, 
and  of  a  very  truth  in  her  is  the  woman 
soul!" 

"Why  have  you  told  me  all  this,  my  son?" 
I  asked  kindly,  seeing  how  relieved  he  was 
now  that  he  had  at  last  spoken.  "You  know 
perfectly  well  that  you  can  obtain  nothing 


38  MONNA  LISA 

that  you  wish  from  her,  and  that  not  I,  nor 
anyone,  except  a  sovereign  prince,  can  aid 
you. ' ' 

"I  want  nothing  from  her  but  the  privi- 
lege of  worshipping  her,  and  of  serving  her 
in  any  way  that  is  in  my  power,  and  this  she 
has  granted  me.  But,  Master,  listen.  This 
is  the  reason  I  have  spoken  to  you :  Madonna 
Lisa  has  one  desire,  and  that  is — that  her 
portrait  be  painted  by  the  greatest  master  in 
the  world." 

"But—"  I  began. 

"No,  Master,"  he  interrupted,  "wait,  and 
hear  me  out.  She  has  this  desire,  but  she  is 
proud.  She  knows  the  mighty  works  you 
are  employed  upon,  and  she  knows  that 
princesses  wait  upon  your  convenience — yet 
she  cannot  bear  to  be  refused  openly.  And 
so  she  wishes  me — not  to  ask  you  if  you 
would  paint  her  portrait — but  to  discover 
whether  you  would  entertain  such  a  re- 
quest." 

"You  know,  Drea,  just  as  well  as  she,  how 
I  am  occupied  at  present,  and  more,  that  if  I 
did  not  have  to  make  our  simple  living  by  my 
painting,  I  should  not  take  a  brush  again  in 
my  hand,  but  should  devote  myself  entirely  to 


SALAI  39 

mathematics  and  to  the  study  of  artificiosa 
natura.  And  now  with  the  scheme  of  the 
great  battle  picture  occupying  all  my  medita- 
tions in  the  realm  of  art,  how  can  I  step  aside 
to  paint  the  features  of  a  pretty  woman  ? ' ' 

"But,  Master,"  he  urged  more  earnestly, 
' '  this  would  not  be  like  an  ordinary  portrait ; 
it  would  be,  as  it  were,  a  part  of  your  studies 
of  nature,  of  the  nature  of  mankind.  Do 
you  not  remember  how  often  you  have  told 
me  of  the  woman  soul,  and  how  you  have 
wished  to  know  it,  to  study  it,  and  to  paint 
its  expression  in  the  portrait  of  the  woman 
in  whom  it  dwelt?  Now  I  swear  to  you, 
Master,  by  my  faith  in  God  and  in  His  Holy 
Church,  by  the  Blessed  Mother  of  God,  and 
by  her  son,  our  Lord  and  Savior,  Jesus 
Christ,  that  in  this  lady  is  veritably  the 
woman  soul.  She  is  not  like  other  women 
of  her  rank,  she  is  not  frivolous,  she  is  not 
vain,  nor  proud  and  condescending,  but  she 
is  as  simple  as  a  woman  of  the  people  and  as 
well  instructed  as  the  greatest  duchess  in  all 
Italy;  the  light  of  the  stars  shines  in  her 
eyes,  and  the  glory  of  heaven  is  in  her 
smile. ' ' 

"She   must   indeed   be   something   great, 


40  MONNA  LISA 

Drea,"  I  said  laughing,  "for  she  is  making 
a  poet,  or  rather  a  poetaster,  out  of  you." 

"Do  not  laugh,  Master,"  he  said  impa- 
tiently. "Sometimes  you  seem  so  wise,  and 
sometimes — pardon  my  boldness  if  I  say  it 
— sometimes  so  foolish." 

"Yes,"  I  said  a  little  bitterly,  "most  men 
of  the  world  consider  me  mad,  and  the  rest  a 
necromancer. ' ' 

"No,  I  do  not  mean  that,"  he  said  with  his 
most  winning  smile.  "I  mean  this:  here  is 
an  opportunity  to  make  an  experiment,  to 
judge  the  woman  soul  by  actual  experience — 
and  you  know  how  you  love  knowledge. 
Why  turn  away  from  this  opportunity  of  ac- 
quiring the  knowledge  you  have  so  desired 
so  many  years  ?  You  can,  as  you  have  often 
done,  make  such  a  contract  as  would  allow 
you  to  drop  the  picture  if  you  should  not 
wish  to  work  on  it  longer,  but  then  you  would 
have  had  the  opportunity  of  discovering 
what  you  have  so  longed  for  if  it  be  there." 

"But  how  should  I  know  that  she  is  what 
I  have  longed  for,"  I  asked.  "She  may  ap- 
pear to  you  like  a  saint  from  heaven,  and 
yet  be  a  veritable  demon  in  her  heart;  for 
woman  has  learned  deceit  from  the  serpent, 


SALAI  41 

who  tempted  Eve  with  the  fruit  of  the  tree 
of  knowledge  of  good  and  evil,  and  Eve,  for- 
sooth, before  she  gave  the  apple  to  Adam, 
bit  into  the  side  which  was  evil,  I  fear 
woman — " 

"Are  you  afraid  of  the  knowledge  of 
women!"  he  interrupted  eagerly.  "Has 
fear  of  results  ever  withheld  you  from  any 
experiment  in  the  search  of  knowledge?  I 
must  say,  Master,  that  I  never  dreamed  you 
could  be  afraid." 

This  taunt  indeed  overthrew  my  com- 
posure, and  without  thinking  I  exclaimed: 
"No  one  has  ever  charged  me  with  fear. 
Tell  Madonna  Lisa  that  Messer  Francesco 
may  come  to  talk  about  the  portrait." 

And  before  I  realized  what  I  had  said, 
Salai  hurried  from  the  house. 


VI 

THE    CONTRACT 

THAT  night,  when  I  retired  to  rest  and  be- 
gan to  meditate  in  the  darkness  upon  my  de- 
signs, the  face  of  Madonna  Lisa  indeed 
appeared  again  before  me  with  its  subtle 
smile;  yet  not  with  the  same  power  as  on 
that  first  day,  and  I  had  but  little  trouble  in 
driving  it  away  by  fixing  my  imagination 
upon  the  chief  points  of  interest  in  my  bat- 
tle picture,  namely  the  struggle  for  the 
standard,  in  which  men  and  horses  are 
mingled  together  in  the  bestial  madness  of 
the  combat.  And  so  when  I  awoke  the  next 
morning,  calm  and  refreshed  with  sleep, 
I  was  willing  to  grant  Messer  Francesco's 
request  even  before  he  came,  which  indeed 
was  at  an  early  hour. 

I  felt  myself  drawn  to  him  soon  after  our 
conversation  began — a  straightforward  and 
honest  but  not  brilliant  man,  a  true  Floren- 
tine, a  typical  representative  of  those  prac- 

42 


SALAI  43 

tical  and  commercial  but  intelligent  and  art 
loving  men  who  have  made  our  city  the  center 
of  the  civilization  of  the  world. 

He  seemed  very  proud  of  the  beauty  of  his 
wife,  and  wished  me  to  understand  that  I 
should  spare  no  pains  to  make  her  portrait 
in  point  of  execution  fully  equal  to  the  best 
works  I  had  produced,  as  he  desired  to  have 
her  beauty  preserved  for  the  admiration  of 
his  posterity. 

"You  have  the  true  idea,"  I  said,  "since 
every  mortal  beauty  passes  but  not  that  of 
art." 

"When  do  you  think  you  can  finish  it?" 
he  asked. 

"That  I  cannot  say,"  I  replied.  "No  true 
work  of  beauty  was  ever  accomplished  in 
haste.  Think  how  many  ages  it  took  the 
Arno  to  hollow  out  this  lovely  valley!  In 
truth,  impatience  is  the  mother 


ru,  mpaence  s  e  moer  o^ttp.av^ 
and  tholfe  people  who  wish'tnings  to  be  done 
too  rapidly  do  not  desire  perfection.  It  is 
impossible  for  me  to  produce  great  works  in 
a  hurry,  as  the  good  prior  in  Milan  discov- 
ered when  I  was  painting  the  Cenacolo." 

"I  have  heard  of  your  reply  to  him," 
laughed  Messer  Francesco. 


44  MONNA  LISA 

"You  must  know  also,"  I  continued,  "with 
how  many  other  great  works  I  am  at  present 
occupied.  Likewise,  that  it  is  necessary  to 
be  in  the  state  of  mind  fitted  for  the  special 
subject  in  order  to  create  a  great  work  of 
art.  All  I  can  promise  is  that  you  shall  have 
it  when  it  is  finished  to  suit  me — it  may  be 
two  months,  it  may  be  two  years." 

Messer  Francesco's  brow  darkened  for  a 
moment;  then  with  a  frank  smile  he  said: 
"I  understand,  Master  Leonardo,  you  mean 
to  give  me  a  masterpiece,  and  that  is  what  I 
desire.  I  can  see  clearly  that  no  man  ever 
produced  a  masterpiece  who  worked  when 
he  was  not  willing,  nay,  even  anxious.  But 
when  shall  my  wife  come?" 

"That  will  depend  upon  her  as  well  as 
upon  me,"  I  answered.  "I  would  not  have 
her  sit  for  me  when  she  might  be  weary  or 
in  a  sad  mood.  You  want  her  at  her  best, 
and  I,  who  also  admire  her  beauty,  wish  the 
same.  In  a  few  days  the  keys  of  the  Pope's 
Chamber  are  to  be  given  to  me  so  that  I  may 
have  room  enough  to  work  on  the  cartoon  of 
my  battle  picture,  and  I  have  hired  a  house 
hard  by  in  the  Via  delle  Belle  Donne;  but 
I  must  prepare  in  it  a  suitable  place  for 


SALAI  45 

painting  portraits  as  well  as  rooms  for  my 
experiments.  But  the  house  is  not. far  dis- 
tant from  yours,  and  Madonna  Gioconda, 
whenever  she  feels  so  inclined,  may  send  to 
inquire,  and,  if  I  am  not  occupied  and  am  in 
the  proper  mood,  she  may  come,  or  I  may 
send  to  her.  But  this  I  must  say  before- 
hand:— I  shall  not  paint  every  time  she 
comes.  It  is  often  best  to  look  and  meditate, 
and  not  to  put  the  brush  upon  the  picture 
until  you  know  what  you  wish  to  do." 

"That  is  wise,"  said  Messer  Francesco. 

"As  soon  as  I  have  everything  arranged 
in  my  new  abode  I  shall  let  you  know,  and 
Madonna  Gioconda  may  come  to  settle  upon 
the  pose." 

"But  what  will  be  the  price  of  the  por- 
trait?" asked  Messer  Francesco,  remember- 
ing that  he  was  a  man  of  business. 

"That  will  depend  upon  what  the  picture 
may  become.  When  it  is  finished,  we  can 
have  it  valued  by  some  of  your  friends,  and 
you  shall  pay  the  price  they  decide  upon. 
Until  that  time  you  shall  pay  nothing." 

This  proposition  pleased  him,  and,  having 
made  out  the  contract  to  our  mutual  satis- 
faction, we  parted. 


vn 

THE    FIKST    SITTINGS 

THEREUPON  I  set  about  having  prepared  in 
my  new  abode  a  place  suitable  for  paint- 
ing this  portrait  as  well  as  others  which  I 
foresaw  I  should  have  to  undertake,  and 
also  for  the  posing  of  the  models  for  my 
studies  for  other  pictures,  since  much  of  the 
beauty  of  the  painter's  work  depends  upon 
the  atmosphere  which  surrounds  the  subject 
to  be  painted.  For,  if  you  place  yourself 
in  the  street  at  close  of  day  or  in  cloudy 
weather,  you  will  note  what  grace  and  sweet- 
ness will  appear  in  the  faces  of  the  men  and 
the  women  who  then  pass  by.  Therefore,  I 
had  fitted  up  a  court,  which  was  ten  braccia 
in  breadth  and  twenty  in  length.  The  walls, 
ten  braccia  high,  were  tinted  black,  and  at 
the  top  of  the  wall  was  a  projection  like  a 
cornice,  with  an  arrangement  that  when  the 
sun  shone  in  a  curtain  could  be  drawn  across, 
which  would  be  unnecessary  when  it  was 

46 


SALAI  47 

cloudy  weather  or  towards  evening.  And 
in  this  way  I  could  secure  a  perfect  atmos- 
phere [aria]. 

When  all  was  prepared  I  sent  word  to 
Messer  Francesco,  that  I  was  ready,  and 
Madonna  Lisa  came  accompanied  by  a  friend, 
a  certain  Madonna  Elena,  a  gay  and  frivo- 
lous young  woman  of  much  superficial  pretti- 
ness  in  feature  and  color;  but  in  truth  she 
was  like  a  cage  full  of  chattering  magpies. 
I  placed  Madonna  Lisa  against  the  dark  wall 
in  a  comfortable  chair  so  that  she  might  not 
be  soon  fatigued.  On  the  broad  arm  of  this 
she  could  rest  her  elbow  and  also  display  to 
the  best  advantage  her  perfect  hands,  which 
she  had  happily  in  no  way  disfigured  with 
rings.  And  then,  having  ordered  Salai  to 
stretch  the  curtains  across  the  court,  for  the 
sun  was  shining,  I  seated  myself  at  the  easel 
and  began  to  draw  the  gracious  outline. 

But  the  presence  of  Madonna  Elena  was 
at  the  same  time  an  assistance  and  a  hin- 
drance to  good  work  on  my  part.  For  she 
was  always  talking,  leaving  but  little  chance 
for  either  Madonna  Lisa  or  me  to  utter  a 
word;  and  though  she  frequently  said  amus- 
ing things,  which  brought  to  the  face  of  my 


48  MONNA  LISA 

sitter  somewhat  of  the  smile  I  wished  to 
draw,  yet  her  constant  and  often  meaning- 
less chatter  so  disturbed  me  that  I  could  not 
think  two  connected  thoughts.  May  God 
have  mercy  upon  her  husband ! 

Therefore,  having  made  several  attempts 
and  having  accomplished  nothing  worthy,  I 
set  aside  my  easel,  refusing  to  let  the  mag- 
pie even  glance  at  it,  which  indeed  greatly 
offended  her ;  but  for  that  I  cared  little ;  and 
I  said: 

"I  can  do  nothing  to-day,  Madonna  Lisa. 
Something  is  not  perfect  in  the  surroundings, 
in  the  atmosphere,  and  I  find  myself  unable 
to  do  as  good  work  as  the  poorest  of  my 
pupils.  What  it  is  I  cannot  explain ;  but  you 
must  come  again  soon,  and  I  shall  begin  a 
new  drawing." 

"I  understand,"  said  Madonna  Lisa  with 
a  glance  at  her  friend,  the  magpie,  who  was 
totally  oblivious  of  anything  but  her  own 
perfections.  "I  understand,  Master  Leo- 
nardo, and  when  I  come  again  I  shall  see  that 
the  atmosphere  is  what  you  require." 

"How  can  you  do  that!"  asked  the  magpie. 
"Has  one  sitting  to  the  great  necromancer 
made  a  sorceress  of  you?" 


SALAI  49 

"That  was  not  needed/'  I  remarked. 

"Why?" 

"It  is  my  secret,"  smiled  Madonna  Lisa, 
"and  I  certainly  shall  not  tell  it  to  you,  for 
you  would  have  the  whole  town  gossiping 
about  it  before  sundown." 

This  sharp  pointed  arrow,  however, 
glanced  harmlessly  off  from  the  impervious 
armor  of  Madonna  Elena's  self-content. 
With  a  thankful  glance  I  showed  Madonna 
Lisa  that  I  knew  what  she  meant.  And  so 
they  departed. 

When  Madonna  Lisa  returned  on  the  fol- 
lowing day,  she  was  accompanied  only  by  an 
old  slave,  Maria,  who  had  been  her  nurse, 
and  who,  establishing  herself  in  a  com- 
fortable chair,  promptly  fell  asleep,  and,  by 
the  blessing  of  God,  breathed  quietly  and  did 
not  snore.  The  day  was  cloudy  so  that  I  did 
not  need  the  curtain  and  being  in  the  proper 
mood  I  worked  rapidly  and  well.  For  the 
night  before  in  the  darkness  I  had  called  up 
in  my  imagination  her  face  and  figure  as 
clearly  as  if  she  had  sat  before  me,  and  had 
arranged  and  rearranged  the  pose  until  I 
had  everything  to  suit  the  idea  I  had  formed 
in  my  mind  of  what  would  be  most  fitting  for 


50  MONNA  LISA 

the  portrait,  and  when  in  fact  I  posed  the 
living  woman  I  saw  that  I  was  right.     So 
absorbed  in  my  work  did  I  become  that  for 
some  time  I  did  not  speak  a  word;  but,  at 
last,  looking  up  at  her  face,  I  saw  that  it  was 
covered  as  with  a  cloud. 
"Are  you  tired,  Madonna  Lisa?"  I  asked. 
"No;  only  a  little  sad." 
"Pardon  me,  Madonna,  but  why?" 
For  a  little  space  she  was  silent,  and  then 
said  softly:     "I  will  tell  you,  Master  Leo- 
nardo, for  you  will  understand. — Often  when 
I  am  alone,  or  there  is  silence  about  me,  my 
thoughts  fly  over  to  the  Sepolcreto,  and  I — " 
Here  she  ceased,  and  I  said  softly:     "I 
know  how  you  feel,  Madonna.    Where  there 
is   the   most   feeling   there   is   the   greatest 
martyrdom,   there   is   the   greatest   martyr. 
And  I,  who  know  how  to  suffer,  know  how 
to  feel  with  you." 

She  said  nothing,  but  the  grateful  look  in 
her  eyes  showed  me  that  I  had  not  spoken 
amiss.  After  a  time  I  continued:  "To  talk 
now  of  ordinary  things  would  be  wrong,  and 
I  am  no  'priest  to  give  you  the  consolations 
of  Holy  Church.  Would  you  like  music  ? ' 7 


SALAI  51 

"Oh,  it  would  delight  me  if  you  would  play 
your  lute,  Master  Leonardo,  for  I  have  often 
heard  of  your  wonderful  music.  But  that 
would  keep  you  from  your  drawing." 

"I  have  done  enough  with  my  crayon  for 
to-day.  But  I  should  like  to  look  at  you  for 
a  time,  so  that,  as  is  my  custom,  I  may  medi- 
tate upon  your  picture  before  I  fall  asleep. 
And  that  can  be  done  while  I  play." 

So  I  brought  my  silver  lute,  and  tuning 
it  I  first  played  a  soft  and  soothing  melody. 
Then,  as  I  saw  her  face  grow  more  cheer- 
ful, I  gradually  began  a  livelier  strain,  in 
which  I  continued  until  I  saw  her  smile  once 
more  return,  and  it  did  not  pass  away.  As 
I  ceased  for  a  moment,  to  tune  my  lute  to 
another  mode,  she  asked: 

"Will  you  sing  for  me,  Master  Leonardo? 
Your  music  is  beautiful  beyond  words,  but  I 
have  heard  that  you  make  perfect  songs,  and 
I  fain  would  hear  one. '  ' 

"Ten  years  ago,  Madonna,  I  would  have 
sung  for  you  gladly,  for,  as  they  have  prob- 
ably told  you,  I  once  possessed  a  voice  that 
was  not  disagreeable.  But  now — I  have 
lived  more  than  fifty  years.  Still,  would  it 


52  MONNA  LISA 

please  you  if  I  should  call  Salai  to  sing  for 
you?  He  has  a  voice  as  beautiful  as  his  face, 
and  he  plays  the  lute  excellently." 

"I  know  that,  for  I  have  heard  him  often 
both  play  and  sing.  He  is  a  dear  boy,  and  I 
have  a  great  affection  for  him.  But  I  wish 
to  hear  your  own  songs." 

"He  knows  them  well,  for  I  have  taught 
them  to  him,  and  with  his  fresh,  young  voice 
they  sound  very  sweet — " 

"Then  you  will  not  sing  to  please  me?" 
she  asked. 

"That  is  not  so,  Madonna.  I  do  not  say 
I  will  not.  I  only  must  say  I  can  not.  Shall 
I  call  Salai?" 

"That  will  not  be  just  what  I  want,"  she 
replied  after  a  pause.  "And  I  am  sure  your 
judgment  of  your  voice  is  wrong,  for  though 
you  may  have  seen  fifty  summers,  yet  you 
seem  to  me  far  younger  than  many  who  have 
been  born  long  after  you — indeed  far 
younger  than  my  husband,  who  is  but  forty. ' ' 

"What  you  say  may  be  true  as  regards  the 
spirit,"  I  said,  "which  when  it  is  occupied 
with  great  things,  with  joyous  creating,  re- 
mains ever  young,  like  unto  Nature,  who  re- 
news herself  with  every  Spring,  or  like  the 


SALAI  53 

sun,  which  stands  in  the  center  of  the  uni- 
verse, and  never  failing  gives  forth  to  the 
earth  and  the  stars  youthful  heat  and  vigor. 
But,  alas!  with  the  body  it  is  as  the  leaves 
of  the  trees  which  wither  and  fall  away,  and 
though  the  soul  may  renew  itself  in  the 
realms  above,  the  body  disintegrates,  and — " 

"Then  you  will  not  sing,'*  she  interrupted 
with  a  strange  look  in  her  eyes. 

"You  asked  for  music,  Madonna,"  I  an- 
swered. "When  my  voice  began  to  fail  I 
ceased  to  sing,  and  when  my  hand  begins 
to  lose  its  cunning  I  shall  cease  to  paint. 
Shall  I  call  Salai?" 

"Then  I  cannot  change  your  decision?" 

"You  may  reshape  an  unbaked  vase;  but 
a  baked  one — no." 

"You  are  very  self-willed,  Master  Leo- 
nardo." 

"I  only  say  what  is  true." 

"You  may  call  Salai,"  she  said  with  a 
petulant  look,  "for  I  would  hear  your  songs 
even  though  from  the  lips  of  another." 

But  after  the  youth  had  come  in,  blushing 
with  delight  at  being  able  to  do  something 
to  please  Madonna  Lisa,  and  after  he  had 
sung  several  of  my  songs,  the  petulant  look 


54  MONNA  LISA 

left  her  face,  as  she  gazed  upon  the  beauty 
of  the  youth  and  drank  in  the  beauty  of  his 
voice.  The  subtle  smile  returned,  softly  as 
the  dawn,  and  I  sat  there  motionless  while 
her  perfection  sank  into  my  soul.  The  even- 
ing drew  on,  and  her  face  became  even  more 
gracious  as  the  shadows  deepened.  At  last 
she  rose  with  a  start  and  cried : 

"I  have  forgotten  myself.  I  should  have 
been  at  home  long  before  this.  It  is  almost 
dark."  And  she  roused  her  nurse  hastily. 

"Do  not  fear,  Madonna,"  I  said.  "Your 
house  is  but  a  short  distance  away,  and 
Salai  shall  accompany  you  with  a  torch." 

As  the  youth  went  to  fetch  the  light,  she 
came  to  me,  and  said  softly:  "Master  Leo- 
nardo, you  have  done  much  for  me  to-day — 
more  than  you  know  of.  I  have  learned 
what  I  did  not  know  before. ' ' 

"I  am  glad,  Madonna,"  I  said.  But  I  did 
not  ask  her  the  meaning  of  what  she  had 
said,  though  I  suspected  what  might  be  its 
import.  For  I  well  knew  that  no  question- 
ing would  bring  the  truth  from  her  were  she 
not  ready  to  tell  me  of  her  own  accord. 
She  waited  a  moment  as  if  expecting  me  to 
question  her,  and  then,  holding  out  her  hand, 


SALAI  55 

said  in  a  voice  that  trembled  a  little:  "You 
are  a  man,  Master  Leonardo,"  and  then  de- 
parted, with  Salai  bearing  the  torch  before 
her,  and  the  old  slave  following  behind. 


BOOK  II— LEONAEDO 


THE     FLIGHT     OF     BIEDS 

I  WAS  in  the  Market,  buying  caged  birds 
and  setting  them  free,  when  I  heard  close  by 
me  the  voice  of  Madonna  Lisa  saying : 

"Master  Leonardo,  this  seems  a  strange 
pastime  for  a  great  man  like  you.  What  is 
it  that  so  interests  you?" 

"There  are  two  things,  Madonna,"  I  re- 
plied. ' '  In  the  first  place  I  am  studying  the 
birds  and  their  manner  of  flying,  and, 
secondly,  I  love  to  free  these  winged  crea- 
tures that  have  within  them  the  soul  of  free- 
dom. It  gives  me  great  joy  to  see  them 
spread  their  light  wings  and  soar  into  the 
free  air."  And  I  opened  the  cage  of  an- 
other bird,  and  bade  Madonna  Lisa  notice 
how  timorous  the  poor  little  thing  was  at 
first,  scarcely  believing  that  his  prison  was 
unbarred;  how  he  stepped  out  carefully, 
looking  about  as  if  for  some  new  foe;  then 

59 


60  MONNA  LISA 

how  he  opened  and  closed  his  wings,  flutter- 
ing his  feathers,  then  ran  a  little  distance 
and  finally  swept  up  into  the  free  air.  '  *  Did 
you  note  the  motion  of  his  wings  as  he  lifted 
himself  from  the  ground?"  I  asked.  "Is  it 
not  beautiful?" 

"In  truth  it  is  beautiful  and  marvellous. 
But  do  you  think,  Master  Leonardo,  that  you 
can  ever  imitate  it?" 

"Why  not?  If  the  birds,  who  have  not 
reason,  can  travel  through  the  air,  why  can- 
not man,  who  has  reason,  discover  the  laws 
of  nature  that  the  ignorant  birds  use  in  their 
flight?" 

"Yet  how  could  he  use  them,  being  so  much 
heavier  than  the  air  ?  " 

"Is  not  the  bird  also  heavier?"  I  replied, 
"and  yet  it  flies  through  the  air.  The  bird's 
body  is  only  an  instrument,  operating  by 
mathematical  laws,  and  it  is  in  the  power  of 
man  to  make  this  instrument  with  all  its  mo- 
tions— though  not  with  so  much  power  and 
control,  especially  in  the  power  of  balancing, 
since  the  bird's  mind  is  one  with  its  instru- 
ment, and  so  it  can  act  more  certainly  and 
quickly  than  the  mind  of  man  which  would 
be  outside  its  instrument  of  flight.  There- 


LEONARDO  61 

fore,  it  is  necessary  for  the  mind  of  man  to 
learn  to  imitate  the  mind  of  the  bird." 

"Have  you  done  this?" 

"Not  yet.  And  I  am  therefore  still  study- 
ing how  the  birds  move,  not  only  in  rising 
from  the  ground,  but  in  meeting  the  differ- 
ent currents  in  the  air,  just  as  the  skilful 
mariner  meets  the  varying  currents  in  the 
water.  So  you  see  it  is  also  necessary  to 
study  the  motions  of  the  air." 

"How  can  you  do  this?" 

"By  watching  the  birds,  the  movements 
of  banners  and  of  kites,  and  then  I  have  con- 
structed some  small  models  of  birds,  the 
wings  being  worked  by  a  coiled  spring,  which 
fly  very  well  in  a  room  or  in  still  air;  but 
when  they  meet  an  adverse  wind  they  fall  to 
the  ground." 

"Why,  Master  Leonardo?" 

"Because  they  have  not  the  mind  of  the 
bird  to  balance  themselves,  or  to  accommo- 
date themselves  to  new  conditions.  Could  I 
find  a  force,  powerful  enough  to  lift  a  man 
from  the  ground,  I  should  soon  learn  how  to 
meet  the  varying  currents  of  the  air. ' ' 

"And  your  little  models  of  birds  really 
fly?  I  can  hardly  believe  it." 


62  MONNA  LISA 

"If  you  will  come  to  my  house,  Madonna, 
I  will  show  you. ' ' 

So  we  set  forth  on  our  way,  accompanied 
by  Maria,  the  slave. 

.  .  .  The  last  bird  I  so  arranged  that 
it  flew  in  a  circle  and  alighted  in  the  lap  of 
Madonna  Lisa. 

"This  is  truly  wonderful,"  she  said,  "and 
I  doubt  not  that  you  will  soon  make  your 
birds  large  enough  to  carry  a  man.  But 
what  led  you  to  attempt  this  I ' ' 

"It  seems  to  be  my  destiny." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"In  the  first  recollections  of  my  infancy  I 
recall  that  being  in  my  cradle  a  falcon  came 
to  me  and  opened  my  mouth  with  his  tail 
and  struck  me  with  his  tail  many  times  be- 
tween my  lips." 

"That  is  strange." 

"I  am  not  superstitious,  Madonna,  but 
from  my  earliest  years  I  have  loved  the  birds 
and  have  spent  hours  and  hours  in  watch- 
ing them  and  in  studying  their  movements. 
And  think  of  the  possibilities  of  human  lib- 
erty when  man  can  fly  through  the  air  like 
the  free  birds  of  heaven ! ' ' 


LEONARDO  63 

"How  you  must  love  liberty,  Master  Leo- 
nardo ! ' ' 

''The  love  of  liberty  is  the  greatest  thing 
in  man.'* 

"But  is  not  the  power  of  ruling  man  still 
greater?  For  my  part  I  can  think  of  noth- 
ing more  desirable  than  the  power  to  sway 
the  destinies  of  men  and  to  make  them  sub- 
servient to  my  will.  What  earthly  greatness 
can  exceed  that  of  a  ruler  of  men ! ' ' 

"The  rulers  of  men  are  not  such  because 
of  their  own  greatness  (for  no  one  can  have 
greater  dominion  than  that  over  himself), 
but  because  of  the  littleness  of  the  men  they 
rule.  It  is  not  the  tyrant  who  makes  the 
slaves,  but  the  slaves  that  make  the  tyrant; 
and  the  tyrant  is  more  of  a  slave  than  the 
men  he  forces  to  serve  him." 

"You  speak  in  riddles." 

"I  know  well  that  tyrants,  least  of  all  men, 
order  their  lives  as  they  desire;  for  they 
must  always  be  plotting  and  planning  and 
doing  many  things  they  do  not  wish  in  order 
to  keep  their  place — and  all  the  time  they 
are  like  prisoners  under  sentence  of  death, 
never  knowing  when  the  axe  will  fall.  But  a 
man  who  has  dominion  over  himself,  and 


64  MONNA  LISA 

who  loves  liberty  so  much  that  he  will  not 
have  others  serve  him  against  their  will,  can 
never  be  made  a  slave.  For  there  is  no 
power  that  can  destroy  the  freedom  of  the 
soul." 

''What  you  say  sounds  very  grand, 
Master  Leonardo.  But  even  you,  with  all 
your  love  of  liberty,  have  served  tyrants. — 
Have  you  forgotten  Ludovico  il  Moro,  or 
Cesare  Borgia?" 

"By  no  means,  for  they  were  very  useful 
to  me.  I  served  them,  even  as  I  serve  the 
Republic  of  Florence  to-day,  because  at  the 
time  they  alone  could  give  me  the  means  of 
carrying  out  the  works  I  am  able  to  do. 
They  are  men  no  better  than  I,  no  better  than 
any  Florentine  citizen,  but  to  them  slavish 
minded  people  had  given  great  power  and 
wealth,  and  why  should  I  not  use  that  power 
and  wealth  to  make  manifest  what  I  have 
created  in  my  mind.  I  must  use  the  instru- 
ments that  come  to  my  hand,  but  I  need  not 
cringe  and  truckle  like  a  slave  unless  I  have 
the  soul  of  a  slave." 

"I  should  like  to  see  the  great  Leonardo 
ruled  by  some  man — or  some  woman,"  she 
said  laughing. 


LEONABDO  65 

"If  I  were  so  ruled  I  should  not  be  the 
great  Leonardo,  as  you  call  me,  or  even 
the  Leonardo  that  you  know ;  but  a  very  piti- 
ful, rascally  slave." 

"How  proud  you  are!"  she  cried,  still 
laughing.  "Do  you  not  know  that  pride  is 
one  of  the  deadly  sins?" 

"Certainly.  And  also  one  of  the  saving 
virtues." 


II 

THE   ZINGAEA 

ONE  day,  while  Madonna  Lisa  was  sitting 
for  her  portrait,  a  wandering  Zingara  gained 
admittance  to  the  studio,  saying  she  had 
been  sent  by  Madonna  Elena.  She  was  a 
withered  old  woman  who  nevertheless  bore 
herself  with  a  certain  native  dignity;  and 
her  face,  a  grotesque  tangle  of  wrinkles,  was 
ennobled  by  a  finely  arched  nose,  and  illu- 
mined by  keenly  piercing  eyes,  the  inten- 
sity of  whose  expression  was  in  truth  some- 
what disquieting.  When  I  first  looked  at  her 
I  wished  to  make  a  careful  study  of  her  head. 
Yet  when  she  said  she  had  been  sent  to  tell 
Madonna  Lisa's  fortune  I  was  for  putting 
her  out  of  the  house.  But  Madonna  Lisa  in- 
terfered. 

"Let  her  stay,  Master  Leonardo,"  she 
said.  "  Madonna  Elena  has  told  me  that 
this  Zingara  revealed  unto  her  many  remark- 
able things  concerning  her  life ;  and  I  too  am 

66 


LEONAEDO  67 

curious  to  know  something  of  what  the  future 
may  have  in  store  for  me." 

"Then,  Madonna,  I  shall  withdraw  until 
your  curiosity  is  satisfied." 

"It  will  not  be  long." 

But  as  I  was  laying  aside  my  colors  and 
brushes,  a  sudden  change  came  over  her  ex- 
pression, and  with  an  eagerness  that  with 
her  was  unusual,  she  exclaimed: 

"No,  do  not  go.  Let  us  look  into  the  fu- 
ture together.  I  am  more  curious  to  hear 
what  she  may  say  about  you  than  about  my- 
self. You  will  not  refuse  to  indulge  this  lit- 
tle caprice  of  mine,  will  you,  Master  Leo- 
nardo?" 

So  I,  desirous  of  keeping  her  in  good 
humor,  consented;  and,  also  at  her  wish, 
agreed  that  the  foolish  performance  should 
begin  with  me.  The  Zingara  then,  taking 
my  hand,  became  apparently  absorbed  in 
studying  the  lines  that  mark  the  palm,  mut- 
tering to  herself,  and  from  time  to  time  look- 
ing up  into  my  face  with  her  keen  eyes.  As 
for  me,  I  was  watching  Madonna  Lisa  in- 
tently to  see  how  she  would  take  this  foolish- 
ness, and,  truly,  it  seemed  to  interest  her 
exceedingly.  At  last  the  Zingara  spoke  in 


68  MONNA  LISA 

an  earnest  tone,  and,  indeed,  told  many  true 
things  concerning  my  past  life  and  my  char- 
acter as  a  man,  an  artist,  and  a  searcher 
after  truth,  which  it  is  not  needful  to  record 
here,  and  which  she  may  have  learned  from 
hearsay.  But  in  conclusion  she  said: 

"You  have  passed  the  meridian  of  life,  but 
you  are  full  of  vigor,  for  your  line  of  life 
is  strong.  You  will  live  to  be  a  gray-beard, 
and  you  will  die  full  of  honors  far  from  here 
in  a  foreign  land.  You  have  never  yet  loved, 
but  you  will  love  a  beautiful  woman  with 
your  whole  being,  body,  soul,  and  spirit ;  and 
in  your  love  you  will  discover  that  for  which 
you  have  been  seeking  all  your  life." 

She  ceased,  and  I  said  laughingly:  "Now 
it  is  your  turn,  Madonna  Lisa,  to  sound  the 
turbid  depths  of  the  future. " 

"I  have  changed  my  mind — I  fear — "  she 
began  hesitatingly.  Then  suddenly  noting 
my  smile,  she  turned  to  the  Zingara  and 
said:  "No,  I  am  not  afraid.  Tell  me  what 
the  future  has  in  store  for  me." 

After  the  same  mummeries,  during  which 
Madonna  Lisa  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  me,  the 
Zingara  said: 

"Madonna,  you  have  heretofore  led  a  rich 


LEONARDO  69 

and  happy  life — though,  indeed,  it  has  been 
clouded  by  one  great  sorrow.  You  are  proud 
of  your  beauty  and  of  your  intellect,  for 
through  them  you  have  always  dominated 
men.  But  you,  who  are  created  for  love, 
have  never  loved — " 

"I  love  my  husband,"  interrupted  Ma- 
donna Lisa. 

"Yes,  yes,"  replied  the  old  woman  nod- 
ding her  head  knowingly.  "Yes,  you  do  love 
him  with  all  the  love  he  can  understand,  with 
all  the  love  he  desires.  But  that  is  not  the 
highest  love,  the  love  of  the  soul.  That  love 
you  have  not  known — because  of  fear.  Your 
line  of  life  is  short.  Still,  before  you  pass 
away,  you  will  know  that  highest  love,  and 
it  will  be  the  crown  of  your  existence,  for  I 
seem  to  see  that  you  will  die  in  giving  birth 
to  your  soul. ' ' 

"When  she  ceased  Madonna  Lisa  said  no 
word,  and  her  beautiful  face  was  clouded, 
mayhap  because  of  the  doleful  prophecy  of 
a  short  life.  So,  to  restore  her  spirits,  after 
I  had  paid  and  dismissed  the  Zingara,  I  said 
in  a  light  and  mocking  tone : 

"Now  that  nonsense  is  over  we  can  return 
to  our  work." 


70  MONNA  LISA 

"Why  do  you  call  it  nonsense,  Master 
Leonardo?  Did  she  not  say  many  true 
things  about  your  past  life  and  your  char- 
acter when  she  had  looked  at  the  lines  of 
your  palm?" 

"And  did  you  not  note  that  she  looked  in 
my  face  at  the  same  time?"  I  answered. 
"It  is  true  that  the  lines  of  the  features 
show  in  part  the  natures  of  men,  their  vices, 
and  their  temperaments.  One  who  has  had 
much  experience  can  often  speak  truly  of  the 
past  lives  of  those  whose  faces  he  has 
studied,  and,  perhaps,  this  may  also  be  true 
of  the  hand  and  of  the  other  parts  of  the 
body.  For  the  soul  has  made  the  body  to  be 
its  instrument,  or  its  house  if  you  will,  and 
where,  for  example,  the  house  is  unkempt 
and  disorderly,  you  can  easily  divine  the 
character  of  its  tenant.  But  as  for  the  lines 
of  the  palm  being  signs  of  the  future, — 
think  of  this,  Madonna, — you  will  find  great 
armies  slain  by  the  sword  in  the  same  hour, 
and  the  lines  in  the  palm  are  dissimilar  in 
every  one  of  the  soldiers — likewise  in  a  ship- 
wreck. And  this  same  argument  may  be  ap- 
plied to  those  tricksters  who  turn  the  beauti- 
ful and  mathematical  science  of  astronomy 


LEONARDO  71 

to  the  making  of  horoscopes  and  other  fool- 
ishness. Therefore  I  beg  you  not  to  put 
your  trust  in  anything  that  you  cannot  make 
the  subject  of  experiment,  and  not  alone  of 
one  experiment,  but  of  several,  so  that  you 
may  see  that  the  same  results  follow  in  every 
case  where  the  conditions  are  the  same. 
For  wisdom  is  the  daughter  of  experience, 
and—" 

"Yet  everyone  says  that  you  yourself  are 
one  of  the  greatest  necromancers,"  she  in- 
terrupted. "Is  it  possible  that  you  are 
jealous  of  other  practitioners  of  the  black 
art?" 

"Madonna,"  I  replied,  "they  speak 
falsely  who  say  that  I  know  anything  of  what 
is  called  the  black  art.  I  have  studied  noth- 
ing but  the  laws  of  artificiosa  natura,  which 
are  open  to  everyone  who  has  the  patience 
to  make  experiment,  and  to  me  all  necro- 
mancers are  liars  and  cheats,  deluders  of  the 
foolish  multitude." 

"Then  you  are  not  a  necromancer?"  she 
said  with  a  disappointed  look. 

"No;  only  a  student  of  nature  and  its 
laws ;  but  because  I  have  learned  things  that 
other  men  do  not  understand,  and  because 


72  MONNA  LISA 

I  busy  myself  with  things  they  never 
dreamed  of,  they  call  me  a  necromancer,  and 
fear  me,  as  men  fear  everything  they  do  not 
know,  for  it  is  only  the  unusual  that  offends 
and  terrifies." 

"And  you  have  never  even  examined  into 
the  mysteries  of  the  black  art  ? ' ' 

"Why  should  I,  Madonna?  for  it  is  cer- 
tain that  if  this  necromancy  were  really  true, 
as  people  of  low  minds  believe,  nothing 
which  is  above  the  earth  would  be  of  so 
much  service  or  damage  to  mankind.  Be- 
cause, if  by  means  of  this  art,  a  man  could 
turn  light  into  darkness  and  disturb  the 
serenity  of  the  air  by  sudden  gusts  and  fierce 
storms  with  frightful  thunders  and  lightning 
running  beneath  the  shadows,  what  a  war 
he  could  wage  by  destroying  lofty  edifices, 
uprooting  harvests,  scattering  armies,  and 
sinking  armadas?  It  is  certain  that  he  who 
could  command  such  destructive  powers 
would  be  the  lord  of  all  peoples*  and  no 
human  genius  would  be  able  to  resist  his 
destructive  forces. "  Here  I  noticed  that 
Madonna  Lisa  was  smiling  and  continued  as 
follows:  "But  why  should  I  enlighten  you 
still  further,  since  what  things  could  a  man 


LEONARDO  73 

not  accomplish  with  such  powers !  And  why 
should  such  a  master  remain  among  men, 
since  he  should  have  no  care  for  any  deity; 
but  to  satisfy  his  infinite  appetite  he  could 
ruin  God  and  all  His  universe!" 

"And  yet,"  said  she  merrily,  "these  mighty 
men  are  willing,  nay,  anxious  to  sell  their 
marvellous  powers  for  a  few  florins  to  any- 
one who  is  foolish  enough  to  believe  them. 
You  need  say  no  more  to  convince  me,  and 
right  glad  am  I  that  you  at  least  are  not  a 
necromancer,  for  with  your  colossal  pride 
and  love  of  unlimited  liberty,  you  would  not 
allow  a  single  person  besides  yourself  to 
exist  in  the  universe,  lest  mayhap  such  a 
one  might  abase  your  pride  or  limit  your 
liberty." 

"No,  no,  I  should  be  too  lonely.  I  should 
need  someone — perhaps  a  beautiful  woman, 
as  the  Zingara  said.  For  what  would  be  the 
use  of  pride  and  power  were  there  no  one 
to  witness  my  greatness!" 

"That  is  true;  for  is  it  not  written,  'it  is 
not  good  for  man  to  be  alone'?  But  I 
thought  you  were  different  from  other  men, 
Master  Leonardo." 

I  made  no  reply,  but,  seeing  how  beauti- 


74  MONNA  LISA 

ful  her  face  was  with  that  mocking  yet 
tender  smile,  used  my  brush  most  dili- 
gently. .  .  . 


Ill 

IN     THE    STUDIO 

.  .  .  "!T  is  in  our  freedom  that  we  are 
most  like  our  Creator,"  said  I. 

''How  you  love  freedom,  Master  Leo- 
nardo! I  believe  you  would  refuse  all  hap- 
piness or  love  if  one  tried  to  force  it  on  you. 
And  you  would  refuse  all  knowledge  you 
had  not  gained  yourself." 

"There  you  are  wrong,  Madonna.  I  do 
learn  from  others;  but  only  by  testing  their 
thoughts  as  I  would  my  own.  I  would  take 
nothing  on  authority  from  anyone  on  earth 
or  in  heaven." 

"Now  you  are  saying  dangerous  words, 
and  I  must  not  listen ;  I  have  been  brought  up 
to  believe  the  doctrines  of  the  Holy  Church 
as  they  have  been  taught  me.  And  what  you 
have  said,  though  it  seems  so  true,  may  be 
the  tempting  of  the  Devil,  for  it  overthrows 
everything  I  have  hitherto  believed.  You 

75 


76  MONNA  LISA 

know  Satan  tempted  our  Mother  Eve  with 
the  knowledge  of  good  and  evil." 

"And  God  who  created  all  things  created 
the  serpent,  too,  for  his  own  good  purposes. 
Since  only  through  knowledge  is  love  pos- 
sible—" * 

"Master  Leonardo!" 

"Love  is  the  child  of  knowledge,  for  you 
cannot  love  anything  you  do  not  know,  and 
the  greater  your  knowledge  the  greater  your 
love.  Also,  you  can  have  no  full  knowledge 
without  knowing  both  the  good  and  the  evil, 
as  you  can  see  nothing  without  both  shadow 
and  light,  and — " 

"Do  you  intend  to  paint  me  to-day?  If 
you  do  not  I  had  better  return  home." 

Then,  knowing  well  that  it  is  of  no  avail 
to  talk  to  an  unwilling  listener,  and  reflect- 
ing how  little  honor  it  is  to  convince  a 
woman,  I  had  her  seat  herself  in  the  accus- 
tomed place,  and  called  Salai  and  Tommaso 
to  make  music  in  order  to  drive  away  the 
cloud  that  had  settled  on  her  face.  But  this 
time,  though  the  young  men  played  and  sang 
surpassing  well,  they  could  not  bring  back 
her  smile.  Yet  the  cloud  passed  away,  and 
in  its  stead  appeared  a  wondrous  and  mys- 


LEONARDO  77 

terious  expression  that  seemed  for  the 
moment  more  beautiful  than  the  smile  I  was 
trying  to  reproduce.  It  was  like  the  haze 
that  sometimes  at  dawn  hides  the  approach 
of  the  sun.  Was  it  the  birth  of  her  soul  ?  I 
laid  down  my  brushes  and  fell  to  considering 
her  face. 

"When  she  perceived  that  I  was  no  longer 
painting,  she  asked: 

"Are  you  tired  of  working,  Master  Leo- 
nardo 1 ' ' 

' '  No,  Madonna,  I  am  working  with  greater 
intensity  than  ever  just  now." 

She  lifted  her  eyebrows. 

"I  am  working  with  my  mind  which  di- 
rects my  hands." 

"Thank  you  for  your  music,"  she  said  to 
the  youths;  "you  may  cease  now." 

"When  they  had  departed,  she  rose,  and 
standing  before  me  asked : 

"Master  Leonardo,  what  is  going  on  in 
your  head?  I  cannot  make  it  out. " 

"Nor  can  I  always." 

"You  are  a  mystery.  Sometimes  you  ele- 
vate me,  and  sometimes  you  cast  me  down. 
Then  I  do  not  like  you." 

I  smiled  but  said  nothing.    Why  should 


78  MONNA  LISA 

I?  She  lives  in  a  different  world  from  mine, 
I  thought.  She  is  young  and  longs  for  life 
and  pleasure.  I  wish  to  meditate.  She 
loves  the  fullness  of  life  in  her  beautiful, 
young,  and  healthy  body,  and  new  thoughts, 
new  truths  disturb  her,  since  the  soul  stands 
outside  the  body  when  it  meditates.  At  her 
age  was  I  not  like  unto  her?  Alas !  each  one 
stands  in  the  center  of  his  own  universe, 
even  as  each  one  stands  in  the  center  of  the 
earth's  surface.  Yet  this  similitude  does 
not  hold  perfectly,  for  with  one  step  you  can 
place  yourself  in  another  hemisphere  of  the 
earth.  But  can  you  step  into  the  universe 
of  another? 


.  .  .  "When  the  proud  giant  fell  be- 
cause of  the  bloody  and  miry  state  of  the 
ground  it  was  as  though  a  mountain  had 
fallen,  so  that  the  whole  country  shook  as 
with  an  earthquake,  and  terror  fell  on  Pluto 
in  Hell.  From  the  violence  of  the  shock  the 
giant  lay  stunned  on  the  level  ground.  Sud- 
denly the  people,  seeing  him  lying  as  one 
felled  by  a  thunderbolt,  turned  back  like  ants 
running  over  the  body  of  a  fallen  oak.  And 


LEONARDO  79 

these,  rushing  over  his  enormous  limbs,  cut 
them  with  innumerable  wounds.  But  by  this 
the  giant  being  roused,  perceiving  himself 
almost  covered  by  the  multitude,  and  sud- 
denly feeling  the  smarting  of  the  stabs, 
sent  forth  a  roar  which  sounded  like  a  ter- 
rific clap  of  thunder,  and,  placing  his  hands 
on  the  ground,  he  raised  his  terrible  face, 
and,  having  lifted  one  hand  to  his  head,  he 
found  it  full  of  men  and  rabble  sticking  to 
it  like  the  minute  creatures  which  not  in- 
frequently are  found  there.  Wherefore  with 
a  shake  of  his  head  he  sent  the  men  flying 
through  the  air,  just  like  hail  when  driven 
by  the  fury  of  the  winds.  And  many  of 
these  who  were  not  killed  by  the  fall  he  slew, 
stamping  on  them  with  his  feet;  but  others, 
clinging  to  his  hair  and  striving  to  hide  in  it, 
seemed  like  sailors  in  a  storm,  who  climb  up 
the  ropes  in  order  to  lessen  the  force  of  the 
wind  by  taking  in  sail.  And — " 

"But  what  do  you  mean  by  this  story?" 
she  asked,  interrupting  me  in  the  full  fervor 
of  my  narrative. 

"It  is  a  part  of  a  satirical  novella  I  am 
thinking  of  writing  to  show  the  littleness  and 
meanness  of  men." 


80  MONNA  LISA 

"Do  not  do  it,  my  friend.  You  can  make 
such  beautiful  pictures  and  such,  exquisite 
songs.  It  is  worse  than  those  hideous  faces 
you  have  drawn,  in  order,  as  you  say,  to  dis- 
cover the  law  of  beauty.  But  this  is  to  no 
such  purpose,  since  it  is  all  imaginary,  be- 
sides being  disgusting.  You  may  make  ugly 
studies,  but  you  never  paint  hideous  pic- 
tures." 

' <I  did  once." 

"I  remember  that  terrible  rotella.1  I  saw 
it  once,  and  it  haunted  me  for  days.  But 
you  have  never  done  such  a  thing  since. 
And  why  should  you,  the  great  master,  who 
are  so  far  above  other  men,  trouble  your- 
self with  their  littleness  and  meanness?  It 
is  not  worthy  of  you." 

"But  suppose  I  were  not  so  far  above 
other  men  as  you  imagine — " 

"Then  you  should  be." 

"Why?" 

"Because  you  can  be." 

"I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,  Madonna." 

Then  looking  me  straight  in  the  eyes  she 
said: 

i  Monna  Lisa  evidently  refers  to  the  "shield"  which 
the  youthful  Leonardo  painted  for  a  peasant,  and  which 
his  father  carefully  preserved. 


LEONARDO  81 

"Tell  me,  Master  Leonardo;  do  you  think 
that  story  is  worthy  of  you?" 

"I  did." 

"Do  you  think  so  now?" 

"I  do  not  know." 

"Then  meditate  upon  it  as  you  do  upon 
your  other  works,  and  after  a  time  I  shall 
ask  you  again  about  it.  But  do  not  tell  me 
any  more  of  it — I  will  not  listen,  for  I 
hate  it.  Tell  me  another  story — one  with  a 
meaning  like  the  other  tales  you  have  told 
me." 

"I  know  a  story  about  a  butterfly." 

"That  is  better." 

"The  vain  and  wandering  butterfly,  not 
content  with  being  able  to  fly  at  its  ease 
through  the  air  and  beguiled  by  the  tempt- 
ing flame  of  the  candle,  decided  to  fly  into 
it.  But  its  joyous  impulse  ended  quickly  in 
grievous  misfortune,  for  its  delicate  wings 
were  burnt  in  the  flame;  so  that  the  hapless 
butterfly,  having  dropped  all  scorched  at  the 
foot  of  the  candlestick,  after  much  lamenta- 
tion and  repentance,  raising  its  face,  ex- 
claimed: *0  false  light!  how  many  like  me 
must  thou  have  miserably  deceived  in  the 
past !  And  as  for  me,  if  indeed  it  was  neces- 


82  MONNA  LISA 

sary  to  see  light  so  near,  ought  I  not  to  have 
known  the  sun  from  the  false  light  of  filthy 
tallow  !>" 

"And  what  is  the  moral  of  your  fable?" 
"Can  you  not  tell  it  yourself,  Madonna?" 
"I  see  two  meanings  to  your  tale.    And 
one  pleases  me,  while  the  other  displeases 
me." 

"What  are  they,  Madonna?" 
"As  you  would  not  tell,  neither  shall  I." 
I  thought  I  understood  what  meanings  she 
had  in  mind,  being  especially  certain  of  that 
which  displeased  her,  and  so  I  did  not  urge 
the  matter,  though  I  saw  that  she  expected 
to  be  pressed  to  tell.    Then,  after  waiting 
for  a  space,  when  she  perceived  that  I  would 
not  ask  her  again,  she  said : 

"That  story  was  better  than  the  first — 
but,  just  as  a  favor,  tell  me  another — one 
which  can  have  but  one  meaning,  and  that 
one  which  shall  please  me." 
"I  will  try,  Madonna."    And  so  I  began: 
"The  mirror  gloried  greatly  while  it  was 
holding  in  itself  the  Queen,  and  when  the 
Queen  had  departed  the  mirror  remained  in 
the  ." 


LEONARDO  83 

.  .  .  "Have  you  no  religion,  Master 
Leonardo f" 

"Yes,  Madonna,"  I  replied  with  much 
earnestness.  "I  have  a  religion,  and  it  is 
very  real  to  me;  hut  it  is  not  the  religion 
that  the  pharasaical  friars  teach  the  foolish 
multitude,  whatever  may  be  the  belief  they 
may  hold  in  their  own  hearts.  And  per- 
haps it  would  not  be  pleasing  to  you." 

"Above  all  things  I  wish  to  hear  what  you 
believe. '  ' 

"Then,  Madonna,  I  believe  in  one  God, 
infinite  and  eternal,  the  Prime  Mover  and 
Creator  of  all  things,  good  and  evil; 
for  if  any  other  power  created  evil  in 
opposition  to  God,  it  would  be  another 
god,  and  the  Prune  Mover  would  not  be 
infinite  or  eternal.  And  I  love  God, 
not  only  because  it  is  my  natural  duty,  but 
because  He  gave  me  my  life  and  prolongs  it 
to  the  present  day,  for  I  could  not  live  with- 
out his  will.  And  I  worship  the  wonderful 
justice  of  the  Prime  Mover,  because  He  does 
not  wish  that  any  force  or  potency  should 
fail  in  the  order  and  quality  of  its  natural 
effects,  whether  they  be  evil  or  good;  for 
in  this  way  He  makes  it  possible  for  the  soul 


84  MONNA  LISA 

of  man  to  be  free,  having  the  choice  between 
good  and  evil.  Above  all,  He  is  no  petty 
sovereign  who  traffics  in  his  favors  for 
earthly  wealth  through  the  medium  of 
priests  and  friars,  but  with  never  failing 
justice  He  sells  all  good  things  to  us  for  the 
price  of  labor." 

"But,  Master  Leonardo,  that  sounds  very 
much  like  some  things  I  used  to  hear  from 
Fra  Girolamo  Savonarola,  and  yet  he  al- 
ways urged  us  to  go  frequently  to  confession 
and  mass  and  to  observe  all  the  festivals  of 
our  Faith,  while  you  seldom  or  ever  appear 
in  the  churches — and  I  do  not  believe  that 
you  have  confessed  for  years." 

"What  should  I  have  to  confess  to  a  stupid 
friar,  who  could  have  no  comprehension  of 
the  thoughts  that  are  in  my  mind  or  of  the 
motives  that  inspire  my  actions!  And  as 
for  Fra  Girolamo — while  he  was  an  earnest 
man  and  loved  the  truth  as  he  saw  it,  yet 
he  was  ignorant  and  narrow,  and  despised 
the  beautiful  things  of  God's  universe  and 
the  beautiful  arts  by  which  men  of  genius 
create  things  in  the  image  of  God, — and  so 
justly  he  met  his  doom.  There  is  among 
the  number  of  the  foolish  a  certain  sect  of 


LEONARDO  85 

hypocrites,  who  continually  study  to  de- 
ceive themselves  and  others,  but  more  to 
deceive  the  others  than  themselves,  yet  in- 
deed deceive  themselves  more  than  the 
others;  and  these  are  those  saints  that  re- 
prove the  painters,  who  on  the  days  of 
church  festivals  study  the  things  appertain- 
ing to  the  true  knowledge  of  artiftciosa 
natura.  And  yet  this  is  the  true  mode  of 
learning  to  know  the  Worker  of  so  many 
miraculous  things,  and  this  is  the  true  way 
of  loving  so  great  an  Inventor;  for  in  truth 
great  love  is  born  from  a  great  knowledge 
of  what  one  loves.  Moreover,  if  you  love 
the  Creator  for  the  good  things  you  expect 
to  gain  from  Him,  and  not  for  His  highest 
virtu,  you  will  be  like  unto  a  dog  which  wags 
his  tail  and  jumps  about,  fawning  on  any 
man  who  will  give  him  a  bone.  But  if  the 
dog  knew  the  true  virtu  of  such  a  man,  he 
would  love  him  so  much  the  more — that  is, 
if  he  were  able  to  understand  such 
virtu." 


.  .  .  The  young  Raffaello  Sanzio  of 
Urbino,  who  was  at  that  time  abiding  in 
Florence,  came  often  to  the  Pope's  chamber 


86  MONNA  LISA 

when  I  was  at  work  on  the  cartoon  of  the 
battle  picture,  and  to  my  studio  when  I  was 
painting — the  latter  especially  when  Ma- 
donna Lisa  was  there.  I  was  very  glad  of 
this,  since  his  beauty  and  lively  conversa- 
tion always  put  her  in  an  excellent  humor. 
For  sometimes  after  talking  with  me  she 
would  seem  much  disturbed — her  face  dark- 
ened with  trouble  that  even  Salai's  singing 
could  not  always  drive  away. 

One  day  Messer  Baffaello  asked  if  he 
might  be  allowed  to  sketch  her,  and,  when 
permission  was  granted,  he  made  an  excel- 
lent drawing,  but  which  gave  the  impression 
of  an  entirely  different  person  from  the  one 
my  picture  revealed. 

"I  do  not  like  his  drawing,"  Madonna 
Lisa  said,  when  he  had  departed.  ' '  It  is  not 
like  me." 

1  'But  perhaps  it  is  like  what  he  sees." 

"That  is  the  trouble.  He  does  not  see  me 
as  I  really  am.  He  has  not  seen  beneath  the 
surface." 

"Yet  it  is  very  pleasing." 

"Not  to  me.  But,  Master  Leonardo,  have 
you  noticed  that  since  he  has  frequented 
your  studio  he  has  ceased  to  paint  as  for- 


LEONAEDO  87 

merly  in  the  manner  of  his  master,  Perugino, 
and  that  his  work  becomes  more  and  more 
like  yours?  I  visited  his  studio  the  other 
day  with  Francesco  and  saw  a  Madonna  he 
had  just  finished.  There  was  much  of  it  that 
might  have  been  by  your  hand." 

''Why  not,  Madonna?  We  can  all  learn 
from  each  other.  I,  too,  have  seen  that  pic- 
ture and  have  noted  how  much  better  and 
truer  it  is  than  his  earlier  work.  Un- 
doubtedly he  has  learned  from  me  as  I  too 
learned  from  the  Milanese  painters  when  I 
first  went  to  serve  II  Moro.  But  though  he 
has  adopted  many  of  my  methods,  and 
though  some  parts  of  his  work  may  resemble 
mine,  yet  his  picture  as  a  whole  would  never 
be  mistaken  for  one  by  Leonardo  Vincio. 
Messer  Eaffaello  is  not  like  those  little  paint- 
ers who  can  only  copy.  What  he  may  get 
from  me  he  makes  his  own,  and  his  pictures 
are  infused  with  his  own  spirit.  He  is 
young  yet,  but  if  he  continues  in  the  same 
path,  he  will  become  one  of  the  greatest 
painters  in  the  world. ' ' 

"  Perhaps.  But  he  will  never  become,  as 
great  as  Leonardo." 

"How  do  you  know  that?" 


88  MONNA  LISA 

"I  could  rule  Mm — easily — if  I  so  de- 
sired. ' ' 

"And  Leonardo?" 

"That  question  is  unworthy  of  you,  and 
so  I  shall  not  answer  it." 


.  .  .  "How  were  you  able,  Master 
Leonardo,  to  finish  the  portrait  of  Francesco 
so  rapidly!  You  have  been  at  work  on  mine 
nearly  two  years,  and  yet  you  say  that  it  is 
still  far  from  completion." 

I  laughed  and  replied :  ' '  That  is  a  strange 
question  to  come  from  Madonna  Lisa,  who 
from  the  easy  way  in  which  she  manages  her 
husband  must  know  him  perfectly." 

"What  has  that  to  do  with  it?" 

"And  then,"  I  continued,  disregarding  her 
question,  "you  should  be  aware  that  men 
are  much  easier  to  paint  than  women. 
Their  features  are  more  rugged  and  pro- 
nounced, and  the  shadows  which  give  char- 
acter of  the  face  are  simpler  and  more 
definitely  marked.  Of  course  handsome 
youths,  whose  features  are  still  delicate,  and 
whose  characters  are  not  yet  fixed,  are  al- 
most as  difficult  as  women;  but  your  Fran- 
cesco is  no  longer  young,  his  features  are 


LEONARDO  89 

strongly  moulded,  and  his  character,  which 
has  been  fixed  for  years,  is,  as  you  well  know, 
simple,  straightforward,  and  strong." 

"  Would  you  be  difficult  to  paint,  Master 
Leonardo  ? ' ' 

"I  do  not  know,  for  I  have  not  yet  tried 
it,  though  I  may  some  day.  Ask  Salai  or 
Boltraffio;  they  are  both  attempting  it." 

"What  do  you  think  of  their  attempts?" 

"I  have  no  right  to  an  opinion.  No  one 
is  a  proper  judge  of  the  correctness  of  his 
own  portraits,  for  these  represent  him  as 
he  appears  to  others.  And  he,  if  he  be  in- 
telligent and  honest  with  himself,  will  know 
many  things  in  his  nature  that  never  appear 
to  the  world,  and,  if  he  be  stupid  or  self- 
deceived,  will  have  formed  an  utterly  false 
idea." 

"Would  I  be  a  good  judge  of  your  por- 
trait, Master  Leonardo?" 

"In  many  things — yes,  I  have  revealed 
more  of  myself  to  you  than  to  any  other 
human  being." 

"Then  you  have  not  revealed  yourself  en- 
tirely even  to  me?" 

"Can  you  ever  reveal  yourself  entirely  to 
another,  Madonna?  Even  if  you  should 


90  MONNA  LISA 

make  an  honest  effort,  that  other  could  only 
receive  those  things  he  could  fully  under- 
stand. The  rest  either  would  not  exist  for 
him,  or,  if  partly  understood,  would  mislead 
him." 

She  remained  for  some  time  silent  and 
thoughtful.  Then  rising  from  her  chair  she 
went  over  to  the  portrait  of  Madonna 
Ginevra  Benci,  which  I  had  just  finished,  and 
said: 

"But  you  have  completed  this?  And 
Madonna  Ginevra  is  a  woman,  beautiful, 
clever,  and  well-instructed." 

For  reply  I  took  the  portrait  and  placed 
it  beside  her  own. 

"Look  for  yourself  and  judge,"  I  said. 

For  a  space  she  regarded  the  two  pictures 
intently  and  then  said: 

"Yes,  you  seem  to  me  to  have  reproduced 
Monna  Ginevra  exactly — the  soft  hair,  the 
fair  skin,  the  full  red  lips,  and  that  is  her- 
self looking  at  you  from  those  lovely  eyes — 
you  almost  expect  her  to  speak.  As  for  my 
portrait — well — as  you  have  said,  /  have  no 
right  to  an  opinion.  But  I  have  a  right  to 
ask  you  your  opinion  of  it." 

"You  are  a  problem,  Madonna^'  I  replied. 


LEONARDO  91 

"In  the  first  place  a  problem  in  drawing — to 
give  the  outlines  of  your  head,  your  hands, 
and  your  body,  without  making  the  contours 
rigid  or  blurred.  Then  you  are  a  problem 
in  color — to  give  the  light  that  glows  in  your 
eyes,  the  soft  reflections  that  hover  beneath 
your  chin,  and  the  subtle  shadowy  tints  that 
flit  across  your  features  as  your  varying 
thoughts  and  feelings  flit  through  your  mind. 
But  the  most  difficult  problem  is  the  prob- 
lem of  the  soul.  Shall  I  ever  be  able  to 
know  what  your  soul  is?" 

"You  have  a  great  desire  to  know  every- 
thing, Master  Leonardo;  and  I  do  not  wish 
to  be  merely  one  of  the  things  that  you  know 
so  well.  I  would  rather  be  the  one  you  did 
not  know,  for  only  thus  can  I  save  myself. 
For  my  part  I  do  not  wish  to  know  every- 
thing— too  much  knowledge  makes  me 
afraid. ' ' 

"Then  you  do  not  wish  to  come  any  more 
to  my  studio?" 

"Oh,  no,  no!"  she  cried  hastily.  "I  must 
have  my  portrait  by  the  greatest  master  in 
the  world." 

"But  every  time  you  come  I  discover 
something.  And  I  shall  not  consider  the 


92  MONNA  LISA 

portrait  finished  until  I  have  discovered  and 
reproduced  what  you  really  are — mayhap 
not  in  every  subtle  manifestation,  but  in  the 
main  essentials.  It  was  to  discover  your 
soul  that  I  undertook  your  portrait." 

"  Discover  not,  if  your  liberty  is  dear  to 
you.    My  face  is  the  prison  of  love. "... 


.  .  .  "That  was  the  story  as  Francesco 
told  it  to  me;  but  as  he  was  not  present  I 
am  not  sure  that  it  is  correct." 

"It  is  not  altogether  correct,  Madonna,"  I 
said.  "Perhaps  someone  who  is  not  my 
friend  told  him." 

"I  thought  that  was  the  case  when  I  heard 
the  tale.  Therefore  do  you  tell  me  what 
really  happened." 

"I  would  prefer  not  to  speak  of  it  again. 
You  see  it  is  not  pleasant  to  me." 

"But  you,  who  so  love  the  truth,  would 
not  have  me,  your  true  friend,  hear  nothing 
but  a  false  tale,  and  remain  ignorant  of  the 
truth,  would  you,  Master  Leonardo?" 

"Yet  if  you  believe  it  to  be  false— 

"I  also  desire  greatly  to  know  the  truth, 
and  you  will  not  refuse  me  that,  will  you  1 ' ' 

"Then,  since  you  desire  it  so  much  I  will 


LEONABDO  93 

tell  you.  I  was  passing  by  the  house  of  the 
Spini,  in  front  of  which  were  a  number  of 
gentlemen  engaged  in  discussing  the  mean- 
ing of  a  certain  passage  in  Dante.  One  of 
them  called  to  me,  and,  stating  the  question, 
asked  my  opinion.  At  that  moment  Messer 
Michel  Angelo  happened  by,  and,  knowing 
how  much  time  and  thought  he  has  given  to 
the  work  of  the  divine  poet,  I  referred  the 
question  to  him,  saying  that  probably  he 
could  answer  it  better  than  I.  But  he  said, 
'Why  do  you  not  answer  it  yourself,  wisest 
of  men,  you  who  spent  sixteen  years  en- 
deavoring to  make  a  clay  horse,  and,  when 
you  tried  to  cast  it  in  bronze,  threw  up 
the  task  in  despair?'  Then  he  turned  his 
back  upon  me,  but  as  he  departed  said  over 
his  shoulder,  'And  you  made  those  Milanese 
capons  believe  you  could  do  it,  too.'  That 
was  all." 

"And  is  it  true  that  you  blushed  deeply 
and  made  no  reply?" 

"About  that  blush  I  know  nothing,  but  it 
is  true  I  made  no  reply." 

"Why  did  you  not  speak,  Leonardo? 
With  your  wit  you  could  have  shown  that  up- 
start his  proper  place,  and  have  taught  him 


94  MONNA  LISA 

that  he  should  not  be  discourteous  to  such 
a  man  as  you." 

"I  did  not  answer  for  two  reasons.  First, 
because  one  of  the  greatest  sorrows  of  my 
life  is  the  loss  of  my  beautiful  horse,1  and 
then,  because  I  have  learned  that  in  such 
cases  as  this  patience  is  the  best  remedy." 

"I  cannot  see  it  as  you  do,  Master  Leo- 
nardo." 

"You  will,  Madonna,  when  you  are  older. 
For  patience  protects  against  injuries  as 
clothes  protect  against  the  cold.  If  you  add 
to  your  clothing  as  the  cold  increases,  the 
cold  will  not  be  able  to  injure  you.  In  a 
similar  way  for  great  injuries  increase  your 
patience,  and  then  such  injuries  will  not  be 
able  to  offend  your  mind." 

"You  have  spoken  as  you  always  speak, 
and  to  any  person  of  judgment  Buonarroti 

i  After  Leonardo  had  worked  for  sixteen  years  on  the 
equestrian  statue  of  Francesco  Sforza  (which  he  always 
called  his  "cavallo"  or  "horse"),  he  finished  the  model. 
This  was  set  up  in  the  arsenal  and  was  acknowledged,  by 
all  who  beheld  it,  to  be  the  greatest  equestrian  statue  in 
existence.  But  the  Duke  Ludovico,  who  was  on  the  verge 
of  war  with  France,  could  not  spare  the  money  to  cast 
it  properly,  and,  when  he  was  expelled  by  the  French  in 
1499,  the  model  was  destroyed  by  the  Gascon  archers  and 
arquebusiers  quartered  in  the  arsenal,  who  used  it  as  a 
target. 


LEONARDO  95 

must  appear  small  beside  you.  As  for  me, 
I  cannot  endure  the  fellow." 

"You  do  not  know  him,  Madonna.  He  is 
a  very  great  man,  and  if  he  lives  will  become 
still  greater.  For,  though  he  does  not  know 
how  to  paint,  his  David  is  the  greatest 
single  figure  produced  in  sculpture  since  the 
time  of  the  Greeks." 

"I  shall  not  set  my  judgment  against 
yours  in  discussion,  Master  Leonardo,  but 
I  do  not  agree  with  you.  It  was  just  be- 
cause you  differed  with  him  about  the  place 
to  set  up  his  David  that  he  began  to  dis- 
like you.  Then  he  knows  that  his  picture  in 
the  great  hall  will  be  infinitely  surpassed  by 
yours,  and  he  fears  that,  if  you  should  once 
more  turn  your  attention  to  sculpture,  his 
colossal  David,  on  account  of  which  he  is  so 
puffed  up,  would  sink  into  insignificance  be- 
side your  smallest  work." 

"But,  Madonna,  he  is  truly  a  great  soul, 
who  does  not  depend  upon  antiquated 
authority ;  he  loves  and  worships  Nature  and 
Truth  and  Liberty. — You  do  not  know  him. ' ' 

"I  know  him  well  enough  to  be  certain 
that  though  indeed  he  is  no  ordinary  man, 


96  MONNA  LISA 

he  is  not,  nor  can  lie  ever  become  as  great 
as  Leonardo.  And,  you  remember,  you  told 
me  that  just  as  soon  as  Virtu  was  born  Envy 
was  brought  forth  against  her;  and  that 
there  could  sooner  be  a  body  without  a 
shadow  than  Virtu  without  Envy.  So 
Buonarroti  is  consumed  by  envy  because  he 
knows  you  are  greater  than  he.  I  never 
liked  him,  and  now  I  hate  him.  He — " 

Here  she  stopped  suddenly,  then  after  a 
moment  began  to  speak  upon  indifferent  sub- 
jects, and,  shortly  after,  saying  she  was 
fatigued,  departed.  When  she  was  gone, 
though  I  was  well  pleased  by  what  she  had 
said  in  my  praise,  yet  I  could  not  help  think- 
ing how  unjust  she  had  been  to  that  great 
man,  Buonarroti,  simply  because  he  had  been 
discourteous  to  me.  And  I  was  in  some  de- 
gree disappointed  in  that  she,  who  was  so 
superior  to  other  women,  had  not  been  able 
to  be  just  to  a  great  man  when  her  feelings 
were  involved.  However,  the  next  morning 
when  I  awoke  and  remembered  how  happy 
her  sympathy  and  appreciation  had  made  me, 
this  thought  came  into  my  mind :  May  there 
not  be,  after  all,  something  greater  even  than 
Justice  r" 


LEONARDO  97 


[The  following  fragments  are  all  that  could  be  saved 
from  a  mass  of  tattered  scraps,  where  some  mouse  had 
made  a  nest  in  the  middle  of  Leonardo's  manuscript:] 

Do  not  desire  for  yourself  riches  that  can 
be  so  easily  lost;  virtu  is  our  true  riches 
and  the  true  reward  of  her  possession.  She 
cannot  be  destroyed,  she  does  not  abandon 
us  while  life  is  left  us.  As  for  material 
riches  and  external  honors,  you  always  hold 
them  with  fear,  for  these  things  leave  their 
possessor  tricked  and  scorned  when  he  has 
lost  possession  of  them. 

0,  human  misery!  to  how  many  things 
have  you  enslaved  yourself  for  the  sake  of 
money ! 

Behold  a  thing,  which  the  more  you  fear  it 
and  the  more  you  avoid  it,  the  more  you  are 
brought  near  to  it !  This  is  poverty,  for,  the 
more  you  try  to  avoid  it,  the  more  you  make 
yourself  miserable  and  without  repose. 

Those  hands  into  which  snow  ducats  and 
precious  stones  soon  tire  of  service,  and  such 


98  MONNA  LISA 

service  as  they  do  render  is  only  for  their 
own  selfish  ends  and  not  for  others '  good. 

There  is  the  same  proportion  between  light 
and  shadow  as  between  truth  and  falsehood. 

tHe  cannot  be  turned  who  is  fixed  to  a 
star. 

The  soul  can  never  corrupt  itself  in  the 
corruption  of  the  body. 

Lust  is  the  cause  of  generation, 
Gluttony  is  the  maintenance  of  life, 
Fear  or  caution  is  the  prolongation  of  life, 
Pain  is  the  salvation  of  the  bodily  instru- 
ment. 

Nature  is  full  of  infinite  reasons  (ragioni) 
that  have  never  been  in  experience. 

[The  following  is  evidently  from  a  conversation  concern- 
ing Leonardo's  battle  picture.] 

War  is  the  most  bestial  of  madnesses. 

It  is  a  most  execrable  thing  to  destroy  a 
man's  life,  not  only  because  of  the  wonder- 
ful work  of  nature  in  the  human  body  but 


LEONARDO  99 

also  because  of  the  respect  due  the  soul  that 
dwells  in  such  a  marvellous  piece  of  archi- 
tecture; since  truly,  whatever  it  may  be,  the 
soul  is  certainly  a  divine  thing,  and  should 
therefore  be  allowed  to  occupy  its  habita- 
tion at  its  own  good  pleasure,  and  should  not' 
be  driven  from  it  by  our  anger  or  malignity. 

How  many  generals  and  how  many  princes 
have  passed  away  of  whom  not  a  single 
memory  remains!  And  yet  they  strove 
only  for  commands,  sovereignties,  and 
riches  in  order  to  leave  behind  them  a  fa- 
mous name. 

He  who  does  not  esteem  life  does  not  merit 
it. 


IV 

THE   TELESCOPE 

I  HAD  several  times  spoken  to  Madonna 
Lisa  of  my  studies  concerning  the  nature  and 
the  movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies — 
what  things  I  had  already  discovered,  and 
what  other  discoveries  might  be  made  by 
further  investigation.  In  all  these  matters 
she  showed  the  greatest  interest,  often  mak- 
ing remarks  and  asking  questions  which 
were  much  more  pointed  and  showed  greater 
intelligence  than  those  of  Madama,  the 
Marchioness  of  Mantua,  whose  conversa- 
tion had  so  delighted  me  when  I  had  tarried 
in  her  Castello  five  years  before.  And  when 
one  day  I  told  Madonna  Lisa  that  I  had  dis- 
covered an  arrangement  of  lenses  through 
which  the  moon  and  stars  might  be  seen  mag- 
nified,1 she  did  not  rest  until  I  had  promised 
to  show  her  the  wonders,  the  description  of 

i  This  evidently  explains  the  passage  in  the  Codex  At- 
lanticus   (187,  a)   "Fa  occhiaU  da  vedere  la  luna  grande." 
(Make  lenses  in  order  to  see  the  moon  large.) 
100 


LEONARDO  101 

which  had  so  aroused  her  curiosity.  There- 
fore, one  clear  night  in  May,  when  the  moon 
was  full,  I  had  my  contrivance  conveyed  to 
her  house  in  the  Via  delP  Amore,  and  ac- 
companied by  Messer  Francesco  we  as- 
cended to  the  roof  where  there  was  a  bel- 
vedere excellently  fitted  for  the  purpose  of 
astronomical  observations. 

Great  was  the  amazement  and  delight  of 
Madonna  Lisa  as  she  gazed  through  the 
lenses.  At  last  she  cried  enthusiastically: 

"It  is  all  just  as  you  have  told  me, 
Master  Leonardo, — only  the  reality  far  sur- 
passes your  descriptions." 

"It  is  always  so  with  the  works  of  arti- 
ficiosa  natura,"  I  replied.  "The  reality  is 
far  more  marvellous  than  any  words  that  can 
be  said;  and  why  should  we  desire  the  im- 
possible when  the  actual  is  so  wonderful?'* 

When  Messer  Francesco  had  viewed  the 
moon  in  his  turn  he  asked  me:  "What  are 
those  dark  spots  which  seem  to  the  naked  eye 
to  form  the  image  of  a  face?  Through  the 
glasses  they  look  like  shadows." 

"You  are  not  far  wrong,"  I  replied.  "If 
you  keep  the  details  of  those  spots  under 
close  observation,  you  will  often  find  great 


102  MONNA  LISA 

variation  in  them,  and  this  I  myself  have 
proved  by  drawing  them."  .  .  . 

.  .  .  Then,  led  on  by  Madonna  Lisa's 
intelligent  questions  I  repeated  what  I  had 
told  her  before,  how  I  was  convinced  that  the 
sun  did  not  move  about  the  earth,  and  that 
the  earth  was  not  the  center  of  the  circle  of 
the  sun,  nor  in  the  center  of  the  universe; 
but  that  it  was  a  star  like  Jupiter  and  Venus, 
and,  when  the  moon  was  below  us  performed 
the  same  office  for  it  as  it  did  for  us  on  this 
night,  and  sundry  other  things  of  similar  im- 
port, which  were  the  result  of  my  observa- 
tions and  mathematical  calculations.  But 
Messer  Francesco  yawned  and  said : 

"All  this  must  have  taken  you  much  time, 
Master  Leonardo." 

"Days  and  months  and  even  years,"  I  an- 
swered. 

"I  marvel  greatly,"  he  continued,  "why 
you,  the  most  famous  painter  of  the  age,  who 
can  dispose  of  any  picture  you  may  produce 
at  any  price  you  may  choose  to  ask,  can 
waste  your  time  on  such  fruitless  studies, 
which  not  only  will  procure  you  no  money, 
but  may  even  bring  you  into  trouble  with  the 
Holy  Church;  for  certainly  your  notion  that 


LEONAEDO  103 

our  earth  is  not  the  center  of  the  universe 
seems  to  be  heretical.  And  as  your  good 
friend  I  advise  you  to  say  nothing  about  it. ' ' 
Then  I,  seeing  he  was  not  interested  in  the 
matter,  ceased  speaking  to  him,  for  you  are 
a  fool  if  you  try  to  force  your  ideas  upon 
an  unwilling  mind.  But  Madonna  Lisa  be- 
came all  the  more  eager  to  look  through  the 
lenses  at  the  moon  and  the  planets  that  were 
visible,  and  to  question  me  about  them;  and 
presently  we  noticed  that  Messer  Francesco 
had  fallen  asleep.  Then  she  asked  me  fewer 
questions  and  those  in  a  low  voice  in  order 
not  to  disturb  him.  At  length,  as  we  sat 
there  side  by  side  gazing  into  the  heavens  a 
silence  fell  upon  us — a  sweet  silence,  and 
from  time  to  time  we  gazed  into  each  other's 
eyes. 


WHEN  at  last,  I  had  painted  in  oils  upon 
the  wall  of  the  grand  hall  a  portion  of  my 
battle  picture,  and  had  failed  in  the  attempt 
to  burn  in  the  colors  by  a  method  of  my  own 
invention,  I  was  as  it  were  seized  by  despair ; 
for  it  seemed  to  me  that  my  greatest 
works  of  art,  like  the  Cenacolo  and  the 
Cavallo  in  Milan,  were  doomed  to  remain 
incomplete  or  to  be  destroyed  by  ignorant 
hands.  I  could  not  bear  to  meet  with  men 
who  ever  asked  me  how  I  was  succeeding 
with  my  picture,  which  I  grew  to  hate  more 
and  more  every  day,  since  I  could  not  take 
my  mind  from  those  portions  where  the 
colors  had  run  together,  being  too  distant 
from  the  fire  I  had  made  to  dry  properly. 
For  in  my  haste,  having  been  urged  by  the 
impatient  Gonfalonier,  I  had  overlooked  the 
truth  that  what  may  be  perfectly  successful 
in  small  things  often  fails  when  attempted 

104 


LEONAEDO  105 

on  a  large  scale  because  the  conditions  are 
so  different.  And  this  I  should  have  known 
well  from  my  experience  in  constructing 
mechanisms  to  imitate  the  flight  of  birds. 
.  .  .  One  day  I  sent  to  Madonna  Lisa  ask- 
ing if  she  could  come,  for  I  hoped  that  in  the 
endeavor  to  depict  her  I  might  .  .  . 

"You  must  not  try  to  paint  any  more  to- 
day," she  said,  rising  from  her  chair  and 
coming  over  to  me.  "You  are  too  much 
troubled  in  mind." 

"If  that  is  true,  then  to  paint  you  should 
be  a  recreation." 

"No,  my  friend,  the  trouble  is  too  deep 
for  that.  Tell  me  about  it;  that  will  ease 
your  mind,"  she  said  as  she  seated  herself 
near  me. 

"Why  should  I  annoy  you  with  my  petty 
worries,  Madonna?  It  is  better  for  me  to 
settle  them  within  myself." 

"Am  I  then  nothing  to  you?  You  have 
called  me  'your  friend,*  and  yet  what  value 
is  a  friend  if  she  cannot  help  you  bear  your 
troubles.  Tell  me." 

"They  are  not  worth  while,  and  I  am  no 
weakling." 

"No,  my  friend,  you  are  only  consumed 


106  MONNA  LISA 

by  pride.  But  I  know  what  is  troubling  you, 
and  indeed  it  is  no  small  matter.  It  is  a 
long  time  since  you  last  sent  for  me,  and  I 
have  divined  the  reason  as  I  have  waited  for 
your  messenger.  Your  trouble  is  about  the 
battle  picture.  Francesco  has  told  me  of  the 
failure  of  your  experiment,  and  also  I  can- 
not help  hearing  what  others  say.  And  you 
alone,  my  friend,  will  not  speak.  Do  I  de- 
serve this?"  she  asked  as  she  looked  me 
steadfastly  in  the  eyes. 

Then,  as  a  river  when  a  dam  is  broken 
pours  its  waters  in  a  tumultuous  flood,  so  I 
poured  forth  everything  that  had  been  tor- 
turing me.  It  was  the  first  time  in  my  life 
I  had  done  such  a  thing,  but  I  must  needs 
confess  that  when  I  had  finished  there  was 
within  my  soul  a  sense  of  relief  and  peace 
unlike  anything  I  had  ever  felt  before. 
Then  my  lady  said  softly: 

"It  is  in  truth  a  great  trouble,  my  friend, 
but  you  cannot  fail  to  succeed  in  the  end  and 
achieve  one  of  your  greatest  triumphs." 

"But  I  cannot  see  how  I  can  complete  it 
as  I  have  begun." 

"Then  begin  anew,  as  you  did  with  the 


LEONARDO  107 

Cavallo.  If  you  cannot  fix  the  colors  in  oil, 
why  not  paint  in  fresco!" 

"It  is  not  possible  to  render  in  fresco  the 
effects  of  the  smoke  and  the  dust  that  makes 
so  great  a  part  of  a  real  battle." 

1 '  Then  continue  your  experiments,  you  will 
certainly  find  a  way.  In  the  end  you  can- 
not fail.  I  know  it."  And  for  a  moment 
the  look  in  her  eyes  made  me  feel  that  I 
should  succeed. 

"But,  Madonna,"  I  said,  as  doubt  seized 
me  again,  "you  do  not  know  how  I  have 
grown  to  hate  the  picture.  You  yourself  do 
not  like  it." 

"What  value  is  my  like  or  dislike?  I,  an 
ignorant  woman,  who  know  nothing  of  real 
war!  You  are  painting  for  men,  and  you 
have  drawn  the  bestial  madness  of  war,  the 
horrible  truth.  I  believe  now  every  word 
you  said  to  me  when  you  showed  me  the  car- 
toon. All  men  should  know  war  as  it  really 
is,  and  Leonardo  is  the  only  man  who  can 
make  them  see  it  in  its  awful  truth." 

"You  have  not  seen  Buonarroti's  cartoon 
then.  Though  still  unfinished,  it  is  marvel- 
lous." 


108  MONNA  LISA 

"Yes,  I  went  to  view  it  a  few  days  ago, 
because  of  late  your  enemies  and  enviers 
have  been  extolling  it  much.  I  must  admit 
it  is  a  good  work  in  its  way.  It  is  a  fine 
composition  of  half-naked  bodies  in  vigor- 
ous attitudes.  But  that  is  all.  And  mark 
me,  he  will  never  put  this  work  in  color  in 
spite  of  all  the  praises  of  his  flatterers. 
"Why?  Because  he  knows  well  that  his  car- 
toon is  only  an  episode,  chosen  to  display 
his  knowledge  of  anatomy,  while  yours  is 
war  itself.*'  Then  she  went  on  to  say  much 
more  that  I  cannot  now  recall,  and,  whether 
it  was  her  reasoning,  or  the  enthusiasm  of 
her  sweet  voice,  or  the  sympathetic  light  in 
her  lovely  eyes,  or  the  witchery  of  her  subtle 
smile,  or  all  together,  I  know  not,  but  before 
she  ceased  she  made  me  feel  that  once  more 
I  could  take  joy  in  the  work,  were  it  only  for 
her  sake,  and  that  I  could  most  certainly 
carry  it  to  a  successful  conclusion.  .  .  . 

After  she  had  gone  I  sat  and  meditated 
upon  the  beauty  and  sweetness  of  her  nature, 
which  had  brought  such  comfort  and  joy  to 
me  in  such  sore  trouble.  And  yet5  when  I 
likened  her  to  an  angel  of  God,  I  could  not 
but  remember  what  cruelty  I  had  seen  her 


LEONAEDO  109 

at  times  show  to  Salai,  who,  nevertheless, 
worshipped  her  and  fawned  upon  her  like  a 
poor  dog  fain  to  lick  the  hand  that  has  beaten 
him.  Still  I  was  not  able  to  blame  her  or 
to  think  less  of  her  on  this  account,  but 
luxuriated  in  the  happiness  and  hope  with 
which  her  comprehension,  sympathy,  and  en- 
couragement had  filled  me.  And  as  I  looked 
back  over  the  records  I  had  kept  of  many  of 
our  conversations  during  the  years  I  had 
been  painting  her,  I  noted  that  in  truth  she 
had  spoken  little  while  I  had  spoken  much, 
yet  that  little  had  seemed  to  draw  out  the 
very  best  that  was  in  me,  and  had  made  clear 
the  understanding  that  had  grown  up  be- 
tween us  in  the  years,  so  gradually,  so 
quietly,  that  I  had  not  become  fully  aware 
of  it  until  this  day  when  I  so  sorely  needed 
her  sympathy — the  sympathy  which  she  had 
given  so  simply,  so  easily.  What  was  that,  I 
thought,  which,  whether  she  were  sympa- 
thetic and  tender  or  heedless  and  cruel, 
drew  men  unto  her  and  filled  them  with  her  ? 
Was  it  in  truth  the  woman  soul? 


BOOK  III— LISA 


YOUTHFUL  PASSION 

IT  was  shortly  after  I  had  ceased  working 
on  the  battle  picture — for  a  time  as  I  thought, 
but  forever  as  God  has  decided — that 
Salai  came  to  me  one  day  when  I  was  alone. 
I  saw  that  he  was  much  agitated  by  some- 
thing he  had  in  his  mind,  for,  though  he  be- 
gan talking  about  indifferent  things,  his 
words  would  stumble  one  upon  another,  and 
again  and  again  he  would  stop,  blushing  and 
biting  his  lips.  At  last,  looking  upon  him 
with  much  kindness,  I  said : 

"Drea,  you  have  something  to  tell  me, 
something  to  confess.  Do  not  fear.  Have 
you  not  been  long  enough  with  me  to  know 
that  whatever  you  may  have  done,  my  love 
for  you  never  fails?  Come  now,  tell  me, 
what  is  it?"  I  put  my  arm  about  him  and 
drew  him  unto  me.  He  laid  his  beautiful 
head  upon  my  shoulder  for  an  instant,  and 
looked  into  my  eyes.  Then  breaking  from 

113 


114  MONNA  LISA 

me  suddenly,  he  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands  and  cried: 

11  Master,  Master,  it  is  not  anything  that 
you  think,  nor  does  it  concern  you,  but  I  must 
tell  someone  or  I  shall  perish. — I  love  her." 

"Whom?"  I  asked,  though  I  knew  well 
who  it  was. 

"Who  could  it  be  but  Madonna  Lisa,  whom 
everybody  must  love." 

"Drea,  dear,  since  everyone  must  love 
her,  why  should  not  you  ?  Then  why  are  you 
so  disturbed  in  mind?  I  am  certain  that  the 
services  you  render  are  very  pleasing  to 
her." 

"I  know  that  well,  but  that  is  not  it.  For 
these  three  years  I  have  been  content  to  serve 
her  in  every  way — to  bear  the  torch  for  her, 
to  fetch  and  carry  like  a  trained  dog,  to  sing 
to  her  and  make  music  for  her  like  a  tame 
bird,  to  come  at  her  call  and  to  go  away 
when  she  bids  me — and  just  to  do  all  this 
has  been  the  greatest  happiness  that  I  have 
ever  known." 

"I  have  seen  this,  dear  Drea,  and  it  has 
pleased  me  very  much." 

"And  I,  too,  was  content  with  this  and  was 
raised  into  the  seventh  heaven  of  delight 


LISA  115 

when  she  rewarded  my  service  with  a  kind 
word,  spoken  in  that  voice  which  surpasses 
the  voices  of  angels,  or  with  that  marvellous 
smile  which  is  like  the  opening  of  a  flower; 
and  I  have  prayed  daily  that  I  might  always 
be  worthy  of  serving  her,  and  that  she  might 
always  be  glad  to  receive  my  service. '  * 

"I  have  seen  that,  too,  and  also  have  been 
much  pleased  thereby,  since  because  of  her 
you  seem  to  have  found  your  soul.  Not  only 
have  you  withdrawn  from  your  former  friv- 
olous companions  and  have  checked  your 
sensuality,  but  your  work  is  much  stronger 
and  better." 

"I  know  that,  Master,  I  know  that,"  he 
cried  impatiently.  "But  that  is  not  what 
I  want  now.  Yes,  I  was  happy  to  be  her 
dog,  to  fawn  on  her  for  a  kind  word — But 
now — I  want  her — her — herself!" 

"You  are  mad,  my  boy!"  I  cried  in  sur- 
prise. 

"I  know  it,  Master,  I  know  it.  I  know 
how  mad  it  is  to  desire  such  a  thing — but  I 
cannot  help  it — it  is  stronger  than  I.  She, 
too,  treats  me  as  a  boy — but  I  am  no  longer 
a  boy — I  am  a  man  with  a  man's  passions, 
with  a  man's  desires." 


116  MONNA  LISA 

"My  poor  Drea,  how  long  has  this  been?" 
"Only  lately.  But  I  cannot  behold  her 
without  longing  to  cast  my  arms  about  her, 
to  carry  her  off  in  defiance  of  all  the  world. 
And  Messer  Francesco,  too,  who  has  been  so 
kind  and  generous  to  me,  I  hate  him,  yes,  I 
hate  him  because — because  he  is  her  hus- 
band— because  he  is  privileged  to  touch  her 
— because — yes — because  he  may  do  with  her 
what  he  wills — I  cannot  endure  to  see  them 
together — "  Here  he  stopped  short  for  his 
passion  was  too  great.  I  drew  him  to  me 
again  and  endeavored  to  soothe  him.  And 
though  at  first  he  yielded  to  my  caresses  and 
seemed  somewhat  calmer,  yet  again  he  drew 
back  and  said,  almost  in  a  whisper: 

"And — Master,  I  have  been  so  envious  of 
you.  You  she  treats  as  an  equal,  nay,  even  as 
a  superior.  To  you  she  unfolds  the  wondrous 
thoughts  of  her  mind,  the  deep  feelings  of 
her  heart,  and  you  are  privileged  to  express 
in  your  perfect  work  the  sum  of  her  per- 
fections. And  I  have  noticed  as  the  years 
have  passed  how  that  first  fear  she  had  of 
you  has  passed  away,  and  now — there  is  no 
one  in  the  whole  world  who  is  so  much  to  her 
as  you.  But  you,  in  your  wise  folly  have  sat 


LISA  117 

there  before  her,  calmly  analysing  and  re- 
producing her,  without  once  seeing  that  it 
was  not  merely  a  beautiful  body  and  face  to 
paint,  nor  even  a  brilliant  mind  to  investi- 
gate, but  a  woman's  soul — no,  no — a 
woman's  heart — crying  out  to  you — holding 
out  her  arms  to  you — and  you — you — deaf 
and  blind!" 

"In  truth,  my  child,"  I  said,  "you  are  in 
an  evil  case,  and  I  shall  do  all  I  can  to  aid 
you — not  to  obtain  your  desire  though,  for 
you  should  not  desire  the  impossible — " 

"I  know  it,"  he  interrupted  fiercely.  "I 
know  it  only  too  well.  And  though  I  know 
that  often  great  ladies  have  loved  men  of 
lowly  birth,  and  have  even  given  themselves 
to  them,  yet  that  is  impossible  with  Madonna 
Lisa,  for  she  is  not  only  the  most  beautiful, 
the  most  desirable  woman  in  this  world,  she 
is  also  the  noblest,  the  purest,  the  best,  for 
in  her  is  the  dwelling  of  the  woman  soul  in 
all  its  perfection.  And,  Master,  I  know  my 
own  unworthiness.  I  curse  myself  when- 
ever I  find  myself  cherishing  sinful  thoughts 
about  her.  And  yet  the  thoughts  will  come, 
and,  though  I  may  be  able  to  drive  them 
away  for  a  time — yet  they  soon  return,  and 


118  MONNA  LISA 

return  with  greater  power.  What  shall  I 
do?"  Then  he  fell  a- weeping.  I  drew  him 
again  to  me  and  stroked  his  hair,  while  the 
tears  flowed  and  the  sobs  shook  his  body. 
At  last  when  he  was  still  I  asked  him: 

"Drea,  dear,  can  you  remember  when  this 
change  came  over  your  love  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  Master,  I  can  never  forget  it.  You 
remember  that  drawing  you  made  for  the 
Leda,  which  she  admired  so  much  because, 
as  she  said,  it  set  forth  the  beautiful  sym- 
bolism of  the  myth  without  the  least  trace 
of  the  obscenity  which  had  disgraced  Buonar- 
roti's design,  which  she  hated.  You  remem- 
ber her  words,  do  you  not,  Master?  She  was 
sitting  over  there,  and  I  was  near  by,  having 
been  playing  the  lute  and  singing  for  her. 
I  carried  her  torch  that  evening,  and  at  her 
door  she  told  me  how  much  she  desired  that 
drawing,  but  she  would  never  ask  for  it,  be- 
cause you  might  need  it  when  you  came  to 
paint  that  masterpiece,  and  she  knew  that 
you  were  too  much  occupied  with  important 
things  to  find  time  to  make  a  replica.  Then 
I  said  I  would  do  my  best  to  make  her  a 
faithful  copy  if  she  would  accept  it.  This 
seemed  to  please  her  greatly;  so  I  procured 


LISA  119 

a  piece  of  paper  exactly  like  that  which  you 
had  used  and  with  infinite  pains  made  a  copy 
so  like  that  you  yourself  could  not  tell  them 
apart. ' ' 

'  *  Then  why  did  you  not  give  her  my  draw- 
ing?" 

11  Master,  now  that  you  have  spoken,  I  con- 
fess that  I  did — after  I  had  shown  you  my 
copy  instead  of  the  original  one  day  when  you 
asked  for  it;  and  you,  when  you  had  looked 
at  it  and  had  made  a  few  changes,  put  it 
away  well  satisfied  that  it  was  your  own — " 

"You  rascally  little  imitator!"  I  cried. 
"I  have  warned  you  again  and  again  against 
that  vice  of  imitation.  I  see  now  that  you  will 
never  be  a  great  painter,  but  only  a  little 
Leonardo,  not  the  great  Salai,  but  only  the 
little — 'Salaino.'  However,  you  are  the  one 
best  fitted  to  do  most  of  the  work  on  the 
Leda,  so  you  may  begin  whenever  you  de- 
sire— and  use  your  own  deceitful  cartoon  in 
the  business,  too." 

"God  reward  you,  Master,  for  I  too  love 
that  picture  even  as  she  does,  and  I  shall 
try  to  do  the  work  so  as  to  please  both  you 
and  her." 

"But  go  on  with  your  story,  Salaino." 


120  MONNA  LISA 

"When  I  took  her  the  drawing,  she  looked 
at  it  lovingly  for  a  space — carefully  examin- 
ing every  line — and  then  she  cried  with  a 
look  of  horror:  'Salai,  you  have  stolen  this 
— it  is  the  master's  own  work.  You  must 
return  it  immediately — before  he  discovers 
his  loss/  For  you  see,  Master,  her  eyes,  be- 
ing those  of  love,  could  discern  differences 
that  neither  you,  the  creator,  nor  I,  the  imi- 
tator, had  detected.  Then  I  told  her  how 
you  had  believed  my  copy  to  be  your  own 
work.  She  smiled  and  said  that  she  would 
keep  the  drawing  and  treasure  it  greatly,  not 
only  because  it  was  the  work  of  the  greatest 
master  in  the  world,  but  because  of  the  ex- 
ceeding love  I  had  shown  in  accomplishing 
her  desire  to  the  full.  But  she  also  charged 
me  that,  if  ever  you  should  discover  the 
fraud,  I  should  confess  the  theft,  so  that  she 
might  restore  the  original." 

"I  am  glad,  Drea,  that  she  has  my  draw- 
ing, though  indeed  yours  is  fully  as  good." 

"Not  for  her,  Master.  Alas!  for  her  the 
work  of  Salai  is  not  as  the  work  of  Leo- 
nardo." 

"But  you  have  not  yet  told  me  of  your- 
self." 


LISA  121 

"Ah!  Master,  it  is  difficult.  When  I — 
when  I  was  about  to  depart,  she  thanked  me 
again  and  again,  and  held  out  her  perfect 
hand,  and  I  taking  it  knelt  and  kissed  it,  and 
then — she  stooped — and — and  kissed  me — me, 
Andrea  Salai,  on  the  forehead.  And,  ever 
since,  that  kiss  has  burned  into  my  brain,  it 
has  eaten  its  way  into  my  heart,  and  I  am 
no  longer  the  same.  Madness  has  taken  pos- 
session of  me.  Madness,  delicious,  terrible 
madness,  which  indeed  has  raised  me  to  the 
gods,  but — I  fear  it  will  prove  my  destruc- 
tion. Pity  me,  Master." 

"No,  Drea,  I  cannot  pity  you,  though  I  see 
plainly  how  you  suffer,  for  well  do  I  know 
that  only  through  suffering  do  men  become 
great.  Madonna  Lisa  can  be  to  you  what 
Beatrice  was  to  Dante,  and  will  lift  you  from 
the  Inferno,  where  now  you  are  in  torture, 
through  the  chastening  fires  of  Purgatory,  to 
the  splendors  of  Paradise,  the  paradise  of 
art,  where,  like  a  true  son  of  God,  you  will 
create  beautiful  and  great  things,  even  as 
He  does." 

"That  might  satisfy  a  soul  like  Dante,  like 
you ;  but  as  for  me  I  do  not  desire  the  para- 
dise of  art  or  any  other  paradise  where  she 


122  MONNA  LISA 

would  not  be  in  my  arms.  For  one  kiss 
from  her  upon  my  lips  I  would  willingly  bar- 
ter all  hopes  of  Heaven  and  joyfully  con- 
sume in  the  fires  of  Hell  for  all  eternity." 

Seeing  that  it  was  impossible  to  reason 
with  such  divine  madness,  I  comforted  him 
as  well  as  I  was  able,  and  indeed  he  seemed 
somewhat  relieved  because  he  had  spoken  of 
his  love. 

When  he  was  gone  I  meditated  much  upon 
the  case,  and  it  seemed  good  that  if  I  should 
be  obliged  to  go  to  Borne,  as  was  then  prob- 
able, I  should  take  the  youth  with  me,  for, 
perhaps,  amid  new  scenes  and  among  new 
companions  and  being  far  away  from  the 
subject  of  his  desire,  his  sensual  longing 
might  change  back  into  the  more  spiritual 
love,  which  would  elevate  him  far  above  the 
common  herd  of  men.  And  yet,  I  must  con- 
fess, I  myself  envied  somewhat  the  youth 
and  the  glory  of  his  passion.  Could  it  be 
possible  that  I  too  might  feel  as  he  did — 
and  for  the  same  object?  Could  it  be  pos- 
sible that  she,  as  Salai  said,  might  love  me, 
and  we  two — ?  No,  it  was  impossible.  I 
had  seen  more  than  fifty  years,  my  blood  ran 
calmly  and  sluggishly;  I  could  neither  in- 


LISA  123 

spire  in  her  the  love  I  should  desire,  nor 
could  I  love  her  in  the  manner  she  would 
desire.  It  was  impossible.  It  was  too 
late. 


n 

A  DIFFICULTY 

WHEN  Madonna  Lisa  came  to  the  studio 
the  next  time  after  the  foregoing  conversa- 
tion, I  told  her  that  I  knew  of  the  substitu- 
tion of  the  drawing,  and  was  glad  she  had 
the  original.  I  also  praised  Salai's  work 
and  spoke  of  what  I  thought  he  might  ac- 
complish if  only  he  secured  full  dominion 
over  himself.  She  looked  very  thoughtful  as 
I  spoke,  and  asked: 

"Does  any  man  ever  gain  full  dominion 
over  himself?" 

"Mayhap  not  for  all  the  time,  for  you  re- 
member the  scripture,  'Let  him  who  thinketh 
he  standeth  take  heed  lest  he  fall.'  But  the 
strong  soul  is  like  a  mighty  prince,  and, 
though  evil  minded  subjects  may  sometimes 
rise  in  rebellion  and  for  a  time  appear  to 
have  overcome  their  master,  yet  in  the  end 

he  always  asserts  his  power,  and,  having  put 
124 


LISA  125 

down  the  rebels  with  a  strong  hand,  returns 
to  rule  as  before." 

"Always?"  she  asked  with  a  strange  look 
in  her  eyes. 

"Always  in  the  end,  if  he  is  truly  a  strong 
soul.  It  is  only  the  weak  who  fail,  while 
temporary  defeat  only  makes  the  strong  man 
stronger. ' ' 

Then  we  looked  at  Salai's  copy  of  my  Leda, 
and  she  showed  me  how  she  knew  my  work 
from  that  of  anyone  else,  and  said: 

"Salai  can  never  do  what  you  can." 

"I  do  not  wish  him  to.  His  chief  fault  is 
that  his  work  too  much  resembles  mine,  and 
the  pupil  should  preserve  his  own  nature  in- 
tact, even  when  he  is  learning  most  from 
his  master.  But  Drea  is  young,  and,  with 
added  years  and  increasing  self-control — " 

"He  will  never  gain  it." 

"It  is  my  hope,  Madonna,  to  train  a  pupil 
who  will  accomplish  what  I  have  failed  to 
do." 

"It  will  not  be  Salai,"  she  said  with  de- 
cision. 

"Why  do  you  judge  him  so  harshly?" 

"I  do  not  judge  him  harshly,"  she  replied. 
"He  is  different  from  you.  He  is  like  the 


126  MONNA  LISA 

little  brook  which  flows  joyously  among  the 
meadows  and  beneath  the  trees.  Beautiful 
flowers  grow  along  the  banks,  and  in  the 
branches  that  overhang,  sweet  birds  are 
ever  singing  to  the  music  of  the  stream, 
while  its  gay  ripples  reflect  back  the  light 
from  the  blue  sky  in  a  thousand  glittering 
tints.  But  you,  Master,  are  a  mountain  tor- 
rent that  rose  in  the  eternal  snows  among  the 
Alps,  and  first  you  tore  your  way  amidst 
rocks  and  cliffs,  destroying  whatever  op- 
posed you,  until  you  became  a  great  river, 
and  now  you  flow  calmly  but  with  irresistible 
force  through  rich  lands  and  by  mighty  cities 
until  you  find  at  last  your  home  in  the  bound- 
less ocean  which  surrounds  the  world." 

"But,"  said  I,  "Salai  is  capable  of  pas- 
sion." And  I  was  minded  to  tell  her  of  his 
confession,  but  did  not,  because  of  his  con- 
fidence in  me. 

"Not  great  passion,"  she  rejoined,  "the 
passion  that  moves  the  world.  Like  the 
streamlet  he  will  foam  and  bubble  over  the 
little  stones  that  may  come  in  his  way,  and 
in  the  Spring  he  may  flood  some  fields  hard 
by;  but  he  will  soon  subside  and  be  the  same 
joyous,  laughing  streamlet  as  before.  I  love 


LISA  127 

this  little  streamlet,  and  I  have  had  much 
pleasure  from  its  joyousness  and  beauty ;  but 
I  know  well  that  it  is  no  mighty  river.  But, 
Master,"  she  continued,  changing  the  subject 
suddenly  as  was  often  her  wont,  "pardon  me 
for  asking  again,  but  when  do  you  expect  to 
finish  my  portrait?  I  ask  it  now,  because  I 
am  soon  to  go  for  a  time  to  Naples — to  visit 
my  relatives — and  it  may  be  months  before  I 
return." 

"And  I,  too,  expect  to  go  to  Kome  for  a 
time.  The  Most  High  Pontiff  has  sent  word 
to  the  Gonfalonier  that  he  needs  to  consult 
me  about  some  fortifications  he  is  planning." 

"Do  you  care  as  much  to  build  fortresses 
as  you  do  to  paint  pictures?" 

"No,  by  no  means,  but  there  are  useful 
things  that  are  not  beautiful — for  example, 
men  and  fortresses.  In  the  present  state  of 
affairs,  Florence  must  stand  well  with  the 
Most  High  Pontiff  as  well  as  with  the  Most 
Christian  King,  and  so  the  Gonfalonier, 
though  he  desires  greatly  to  have  the  battle 
picture  completed,  yet  cannot  afford  to 
offend  the  pontiff.  Therefore,  though  at 
present  I  should  much  prefer  to  work  upon 
your  portrait,  I  must  go  to  Borne." 


128  MONNA  LISA 

"What  remains  to  be  done?  To  me  it 
seems  perfect  already." 

"There  are  two  things  that  do  not  satisfy 
me.  The  first  is  your  smile,  which  perhaps  I 
may  never  be  able  to  achieve,  for  it  seems  like 
the  light  of  the  sky  that  painters  can  only 
suggest  in  their  pictures;  and  the  other  is  the 
torso.  The  neck  and  the  bosom  and  the  hands 
are  complete,  but  as  for  the  body,  I  have  tried 
model  after  model,  but  all  are  too  clumsy  or 
too  slender — not  one  has  that  perfection  of 
proportion  that  I  imagine  must  be  yours." 

"Why  do  you  not  employ  your  imagina- 
tion, Master  Leonardo,  and  your  wonderful 
knowledge  of  anatomy?" 

"So  I  have,  but  therein  also  have  I  failed. 
Come,  Madonna,  and  look  at  these  drawings. 
Here  are  all  my  attempts." 

As  she  looked  at  them  she  was  silent,  and 
her  look  grew  even  more  thoughtful.  She 
lingered  for  a  long  time  over  them,  and 
finally,  as  she  laid  the  last  one  aside,  she 
laughed  a  short,  strange  laugh,  and  said: 

"You  are  right,  Master.  None  of  these 
will  do.  Only  one  person  can  help  you. 
Send  Salai  away  to-morrow."  And  having 
called  her  nurse  she  departed  quickly. 


Ill 

THE    CAVERN 

THE  next  day  I  sent  Salai  away  on  a  mis- 
sion which  would  employ  him  till  evening, 
and  gave  word  to  my  servants  that  I  was  not 
to  be  disturbed  on  any  pretense.  In  the 
afternoon  she  came  alone,  attired  in  a  long 
cloak  with  a  hood  that  covered  her  head.  As 
she  entered  she  said  briefly : 

"Have  you  everything  ready,  Master?" 

"Yes,  Madonna." 

She  seated  herself  in  the  accustomed  spot, 
waited  till  I  had  taken  my  place  at  the  easel, 
then  threw  back  her  cloak  and  the  upper  part 
of  her  loose  robe  and  said : 

"Go  to  work." 

I  took  the  crayon  and  began,  but  my  hand 
trembled.  It  was  poor  work  I  knew,  but  it 
was  my  only  chance  to  record  the  truth,  and 
I  did  as  well  as  I  could.  For  a  time  we  were 
both  silent — her  eyes  had  a  fixed  look.  At 
last  she  spoke: 

129 


130  MONNA  LISA 

"Do  not  put  my  face  upon  it,  Master." 

"I  do  not  intend  to   draw  any  face." 

"No,  I  do  not  like  that.  I  hate  headless 
things  like  the  statues  they  find  in  the  earth. 
It  seems  like  death — death  by  the  axe.  My 
body  must  live.  You  must  invent  a  face. ' ' 

"Certainly,  Madonna." 

"What  will  it  be  like?" 

"A  smiling  woman,  proud,  condescending, 
— self-satisfied,  because  she  knows  she  is  so 
beautiful." 

"That  will  not  be  like  me." 

"For  that  reason  I  shall  make  it  es- 
pecially self-satisfied,  since  you  are  never 
satisfied,  but  always  longing,  and  longing  for 
some  new  experience,  some  further  insight." 

She  made  no  answer,  and  we  were  silent 
for  a  long  time.  Her  face  grew  more  and 
more  thoughtful,  even  melancholy.  And  yet 
it  had  a  new  charm,  an  effect  unlike  any  I 
had  seen  before,  so  that  I  could  with  dif- 
ficulty work  on  the  figure  and  not  endeavor 
to  fix  that  thoughtful,  melancholy  face  on  my 
paper.  Finally  she  spoke  softly  and  slowly 
as  if  waking  from  a  dream : 

"Tell  me  one  of  your  stories,  Master. 
Nothing  witty  and  nothing  horrible,  but 


USA  131 

something  from  your  own  life.  Something 
that  is  fitting." 

I  related  the  following:  "Once,  driven  by 
my  greedy  desire,  I  travelled  to  Mongibello 
to  see  the  great  and  various  and  strange 
forms  made  by  artificiosa  natura;  and,  hav- 
ing wandered  some  distance  among  the 
gloomy  rocks,  I  came  to  the  entrance  of  a 
great  cavern,  in  front  of  which  I  stood  some 
time,  for  I  was  astonished,  not  having  ex- 
pected to  find  such  a  thing.  Then,  bending 
my  back  into  an  arch,  I  rested  my  left  hand 
on  my  knee,  and  held  my  right  hand  over 
my  downcast  and  contracted  eyebrows,  often 
bending  first  one  way  and  then  the  other  to 
see  if  I  could  discover  anything  within. 
But  this  being  forbidden  by  the  deep  dark- 
ness of  the  cavern,  after  I  had  remained 
there  some  time,  two  contrary  emotions 
arose  in  me — fear  and  desire — fear  of  the 
threatening,  dark  cavern,  desire  to  see 
whether  there  were  any  miraculous  thing 
within." 

There  I  ceased,  half  expecting  that  she 
would  ask  me  to  continue,  but  she,  on  the 
contrary,  remained  silent  and  thoughtful. 
At  last,  when  she  saw  that  I  had  finished  my 


132  MONNA  LISA 

drawing,  having  readjusted  her  robe  and 
covered  her  head  with  the  hood  of  her  cloak 
and  without  even  glancing  at  my  work,  she 
left  the  house.  I  accompanied  her,  for  it  was 
growing  dark,  but  we  spoke  no  word  on  the 
way.  At  her  door  she  turned  to  me  and 
asked : 

"Master,  can  you  escape  from  that 
cavern  f ' ' 

"I  do  not  know." 

And  then  she  entered  the  house,  leaving 
me  alone. 


IV 

THE    FLESH    OF    WOMAN 

THAT  night  I  could  not  sleep.  I  tossed 
about  endeavoring  to  meditate  upon  other 
pictures  that  I  had  in  mind,  or  upon  certain 
problems  in  mathematics  and  mechanics,  but 
it  was  in  vain.  Before  my  mind  was  ever 
that  vision  of  her  fair  body  surmounted  by 
her  thoughtful  face  and  her  mysterious  eyes. 
The  vision  seemed  more  distinct,  more  real 
than  the  actuality  had  been  some  hours  be- 
fore, for  then  my  eyes  had  been  as  though 
blinded  by  a  rosy  mist.  At  length  I  arose, 
and  striking  a  light,  I  took  a  fresh  leaf  of 
paper  and  drew  with  much  exactness  the 
vivid  vision  before  me.  When  it  was  com- 
pleted, just  as  the  grey  dawn  appeared,  I  re- 
tired to  bed,  and,  being  much  exhausted, 
slept  until  far  into  the  day.1 

0  flesh  of  woman,  of  the  woman  who  is  be- 

i  This   drawing  must  be  the  one  which  is  now  in   the 
Cond6  Museum  at  Chantilly. 
133 


134  MONNA  LISA 

loved!  how  thou  dost  confuse  the  mind  and 
even  the  soul  of  man!  With  thy  warm 
glow  thou  comest  between  him  and  the  pure 
light  of  knowledge  that  shines  from  heaven. 
Like  the  mist  at  dawn  thou  veilest  all  things 
so  that  he  cannot  see  them  in  their  truth,  and 
therefore,  enfolded  in  an  iridescent  cloud,  he 
often  wanders  about  until  he  has  lost  forever 
the  true  way.  And  yet,  of  all  God-created 
things,  thou  art  among  the  most  beautiful, 
and,  being  created  of  God,  thou  art  not 
wholly  evil.  Through  thee  man  may  ascend 
into  Heaven  or  descend  into  Hell.  But,  how, 
0  thou,  our  Creator,  the  Prime  Mover  of  all 
things,  is  thy  creature  to  know  the  true 
way?  .  .  . 

When  I  awoke  from  sleep  I  felt  myself 
much  refreshed,  and  my  mind  clear.  Then, 
taking  my  drawing,  I  sat  down  before  the 
portrait  and  with  a  sure  hand  made  such 
alterations  as  were  necessary  to  bring  the 
figure  into  perfect  harmony  with  the  face  and 
hands. 

The  portrait  was  now  almost  completed. 
To  the  ordinary  observer  it  would  be  a  per- 
fect likeness,  to  me  some  further  work  was 
needed  to  express  in  her  features  what  was 


LISA  135 

in  the  soul  within,  unseen  by  all  but  me. 
Still  it  seemed  best  that  the  portrait  should 
wait  until  we  had  both  returned  to  Florence, 
for  at  this  time  my  hand,  disturbed  by  the 
promptings  of  the  flesh,  could  not  accomplish 
what  was  needed  to  make  the  portrait  worthy 
of  her. 

Therefore  I  sent  word  by  Salai,  that  it 
would  be  well  for  her  not  to  come  again 
until  she  should  have  returned  from  Naples, 
by  which  voyage  I  hoped  that  her  health,  for 
some  time  failing,  might  be  fully  established. 
She  sent  back  a  reply  by  the  youth,  saying 
I  had  decided  rightly,  since  at  the  present 
time  she  did  not  feel  that  she  was  able  to 
bear  the  fatigue  of  any  more  sittings,  but 
she  expected  to  see  me  again  before  she  left 
Florence,  which  was  to  be  in  a  few  days. 

Salai  was  much  distressed  when  he  thus 
learned  of  her  approaching  departure,  for 
she  had  not  spoken  of  it  to  him  before.  I 
then  told  him  of  my  purpose  to  take  him 
with  me  to  Rome,  where  he  would  not  only 
have  new  scenes  and  new  people  to  distract 
his  mind,  but  would  be  in  reality  much  nearer 
the  object  of  his  adoration.  Yet  none  of  us 
knew  that  the  last  sitting  for  the  portrait 


136  MONNA  LISA 

had  been  that  one  when  she  had  come  alone, 
though  indeed  I  was  destined  to  paint  once 
more  upon  it  with  the  vision  of  her  soul  be- 
fore my  eyes. 


THE   BANQUET 

THE  night  before  Madonna  Lisa  left 
Florence,  Messer  Francesco  gave  a  banquet, 
and  at  his  wish  I  was  present.  There  were 
many  of  the  chief  men  of  the  city  at  the  table 
with  their  wives,  resplendent  in  costly  robes, 
eating  largely  of  the  rich  food  set  before 
them.  I  listened  wearily  to  their  chatter, 
saying  but  little  myself,  for  the  things  they 
talked  of  were  of  small  interest  to  me.  I 
could  also  see  that  the  face  of  Madonna  Lisa 
had  a  tired  look,  and  that  the  smile  with 
which  she  at  times  endeavored  to  cover  her 
weariness  was  not  in  anything  like  the  radi- 
ance that  had  so  often  beamed  upon  me  while 
I  was  painting. 

As  I  looked  and  listened  I  could  not  help 
thinking  that  gross  men  of  commonplace 
habits  and  of  little  power  of  reasoning  and 
discourse  do  not  merit  such  a  beautiful  in- 
strument as  the  body,  nor  so  great  a  variety 

137 


138  MONNA  LISA 

of  delicate  adjustments  as  do  thinking  men 
and  those  of  great  power  of  expression,  but 
they  need  only  a  sack  wherein  they  may  re- 
ceive food  and  whence  it  may  issue ;  that  in 
truth  they  ought  not  to  be  judged  otherwise 
than  as  passageways  for  food,  because  they 
do  not  appear  to  me  to  participate  in  any 
way  with  the  human  species  otherwise  than 
in  the  voice  and  form,  while  as  to  all  the  rest 
they  fall  even  below  the  beasts. 

I  also  wondered  how  Messer  Francesco, 
honest  man  though  he  was,  had  succeeded  in 
winning  and  holding  the  love  of  Madonna 
Lisa,  seeing  that  he  was  in  every  way  igno- 
rant of  what  was  highest  and  best  in  her — 
namely  her  soul,  which  he  could  never  under- 
stand, having  neither  eyes  to  see,  nor  ears 
to  hear,  nor  mind  fit  to  receive  what  part  of 
her  perfect  soul  she  might  choose  to  reveal. 

While  the  banquet  was  going  on  there  was 
music,  which  few  of  the  company  heard,  be- 
cause of  their  talk  about  common  things, 
and  because  of  the  rattle  and  clatter  of 
knives  upon  platters.  But  when  all  had  well 
filled  their  sacks  with  food,  the  company 
withdrew  into  another  hall,  the  musicians 
played  a  merrier  strain,  and  some  of  the 


LISA  139 

younger  folk  began  to  dance.  Then  I — feel- 
ing utterly  weary  and  thinking  how  that  men 
would  toil  and  struggle  and  defraud  each 
other  for  the  sake  of  obtaining  nothing  more 
than  this,  which  must  soon  pass  away  and 
was  even  now  becoming  filth  and  corruption 
— withdrew  by  myself,  and,  coming  to  a  little 
terrace  that  overhung  the  garden  in  the  in- 
ner court,  I  gazed  upon  the  full  moon,  which 
was  pouring  the  reflected  light  of  the  sun 
down  upon  the  earth. 

How  long  I  stood  there  I  know  not,  but 
suddenly  I  heard  a  step  behind  me,  and, 
turning,  I  saw  Madonna  Lisa.  There  was  a 
mysterious  look  in  her  eyes  as  she  came  out 
into  the  moonbeams,  and  with  a  choking 
voice  she  said: 

"You  seem  sad,  Master." 

1  'Yes,  Madonna,  I  am  sad  and  weary. 
Life  is  sometimes  hard." 

"You  will  miss  me  when  I  am  gone  and 
come  no  more  to  your  studio!" 

"Yes,  Madonna,  I  shall  miss  you." 

' '  And  you  will  be  glad  when  I  return  ? ' ' 

"I  shall  be  very  glad." 

After  this  we  said  no  more  for  a  little 
space,  but  listened  to  the  music,  which 


140  MONNA  LISA 

sounded  faintly  from  within.  And  then  her 
body  swayed  toward  me,  but  as  I  in  amaze- 
ment stood  motionless,  she  drew  back  quickly, 
trembling.  A  moment  after  the  hot  blood 
sped  outward  from  my  heart — I  bent  toward 
her,  and  once  more  she  swayed  forward  to 
me,  and  her  lips  met  mine.  .  .  . 


VI 

THE   LETTERS 

Leonardo  to  Lisa. 

...  IN  you,  my  beloved,  I  have  not 
only  found  the  woman  soul  that  I  searched 
for  so  long,  but  I  have  also  found  my  own 
soul,  which  had  lain  hidden  these  many  years. 
For  drawn  by  you  I  have  entered  that 
threatening  cavern  and  there  I  have  found 
the  miraculous  thing  I  desired — but  did  not 
know  and  even  feared — love.  Love  that  has 
raised  my  soul  out  of  the  obscure  depths  to 
meet  your  soul — at  first  half  dreaming,  half 
awake,  then  aroused  into  full  life  by  the 
touch  of  your  lips  upon  mine.  The  trem- 
ulous rhythm  of  your  kiss  still  vibrates 
within  me.  That  kiss  from  your  lips  drew 
my  soul  to  yours  as  the  smiling  warmth  of 
the  sun  draws  the  vapors  from  the  sea  up 
into  the  heavens,  there  to  float,  illuminated 
and  adorned  with  wondrous  colors  by  the 

141 


142  MONNA  LISA 

same  sun.  And,  moreover,  in  other  days 
you  seem  to  me  like  unto  the  sun,  which  is 
the  only  source  of  light  and  heat  in  the  uni- 
verse, and  from  which  descend  all  the  souls 
of  men,  since  the  warmth  in  living  bodies 
comes  from  the  soul;  so  from  you,  my  sun, 
my  warmth,  my  light,  from  you  has 
descended  into  my  cold  body  a  new  soul — 
the  old  soul  being  dead — and  now  I  live 
again  with  a  new  life,  that  with  all  my 
studies,  all  my  observations  and  experi- 
ments, I  had  never  imagined.  And  with  this 
new  soul  I  am  alive  as  I  have  never  been  be- 
fore.— And  this  you  have  done  by  your 
kiss.  .  .  . 

Lisa  to  Leonardo. 

.  .  .  Since  I  have  been  here.  It  is  im- 
possible to  tell  you,  my  Leonardo,  how  I  miss 
you,  how  I  need  you.  Now  all  the  days  are 
long  and  tedious.  I  start  up,  thinking  that 
it  is  time  for  me  to  sit  in  front  of  that  dark 
wall  under  the  curtain,  and  to  have  your  eyes 
search  deep  into  my  soul,  finding  there  many, 
many  things  no  one  else  ever  considered 
worthy  to  search  for  or  indeed  ever  dreamed 
of.  ...  Your  eyes  are  so  different  from 


LISA  143 

those  of  other  men.  It  has  ever  been  easy  for 
me  to  read  the  eyes  of  the  men  I  knew,  easy 
to  see  the  desire  that  flashed  up  the  moment 
I  glanced  into  them.  But  as  I  gazed  and 
gazed  into  your  eyes,  my  beloved,  day  after 
day,  I  saw  in  them  desire  indeed — eager, 
greedy  desire — but  it  was  not  the  desire  that 
glitters  in  other  men's  eyes — desire  for  the 
things  that  pass  away  in  corruption — it  was 
a  calm,  infinite,  yes,  appalling  desire  for  me, 
myself,  the  real  me  that  we  are  told  is 
eternal.  Yes,  my  Leonardo,  it  almost  ap- 
palled me  at  first.  As  the  old  Zingara  truly 
said,  I  was  filled  with  fear  of  you,  because  I 
did  not  understand  your  gaze  and  yet  felt 
its  enthralling  influence.  I  thought  of  tales 
I  had  heard  of  the  basilisk,  of  the  evil  eye, 
of  the  black  art,  and  as  I  felt  your  gaze  take 
possession  of  me,  body  and  soul,  I  trembled. 
Often,  when  I  had  left  your  house  and  was 
free  from  the  obsession  of  your  eyes,  free 
from  their  mysterious  power,  I  would  re- 
solve that  I  would  never  return,  feeling  that 
in  the  end  I  should  pay  a  price  too  great 
even  for  a  portrait  by  Leonardo.  Yet  when 
Salai  would  appear  with  the  word  that  you 
were  ready  to  paint  if  I  were  pleased  to 


144  MONNA  LISA 

come,  I  would  hasten  as  much  as  was  seemly 
in  order  to  lose  no  moment. 

But  as  time  passed  I  came  to  know  some- 
what of  the  meaning  of  your  eyes,  and  then 
I  began  to  love  them;  for  as  you  have  told 
me,  love  is  the  child  of  knowledge.  And 
then  I  also  perceived  that  you  yourself  did 
ncrt  understand  your  own  power;  for  your 
squl,  with  its  infinite  desire  that  shines  so 
steadily  from  your  deep  eyes,  is  like  the 
artificiosa  natura  you  so  love  to  talk  about 
— all  creating,  all  developing,  all  enfolding, 
all  cherishing,  and  yet  unconscious  of  its 
powers  and  achievements.  Men  imagine  all 
manner  of  strange  things  about  you — even 
as  I  did  in  the  beginning — because  they  do 
not  know  you,  because  they  cannot  know 
you;  but  I,  who  am  now  beginning  to  know 
you,  love  you,  and  the  more  I  shall  know 
you,  my  beloved,  the  more  I  shall  love  you. 
But  shall  I  be  able  to  satisfy  that  infinite  de- 
sire that  glows  so  steadily  in  your 
eyes?  .  .  . 

Leonardo  to  Lisa. 

.  .  .  The  lover  is  moved  through  the 
beloved  as  are  the  senses  by  the  objects  per- 


LISA  145 

ceived — as  the  magnet  and  the  steel  by  each 
other — and  they  unite  and  make  one  single 
thing.  The  ...  is  the  first  thing  which 
is  born  of  this  union.  If  the  beloved  is  vile 
the  lover  makes  himself  vile.  When  the 
being  which  is  united  is  fitted  for  that  with 
which  it  is  united,  then  follows  delectation 
and  pleasure  and  satisfaction.  When  the 
lover  is  joined  to  his  beloved,  there  he  re- 
poses— when  the  weight  is  placed  in  posi- 
tion, there  it  reposes.  The  things  known  by 
our  intellect  .  .  . 

Lisa  to  Leonardo. 

.  .  .  Tell  me,  my  wise  Leonardo,  how 
I,  one  poor,  little  woman,  can  love  you — 
three?  ...  I  love  Francesco,  not  only 
from  duty,  because  we  are  united  by  the  holy 
sacrament,  but  from  inclination,  because  he 
has  always  been  so  good  to  me,  so  indulgent, 
so  patient  with  my  caprices,  so  tolerant  of 
my  wayward  thoughts — even  though  he  does 
not  comprehend  them — and  always  so  affec- 
tionate and  true.  And  then  I  love  Salai, 
that  beautiful  youth  so  full  of  sunshine, 
whom  you  love  so  well  that  indeed  I  need 
not  tell  you  why  I  love  him.  And,  last,  I 


146  MONNA  LISA 

love  you, — you,  the  mighty  Leonardo, — 
why?  Simply  because  a  power  stronger 
than  I,  stronger  than  you — for  you  too  re- 
sisted long — has  drawn  us  together, — a 
power  like  unto  the  attraction  of  the  magnet 
and  the  steel  for  each  other.  You  made  no 
effort  to  win  me,  nor  did  I  try  to  win  you. 
But  though  I  made  no  effort — though  you 
never  even  dreamed  of  making  one — yet 
that  power,  mysterious — no,  simple  like  one 
of  the  forces  of  artificiosa  natura,  drew  us 
together,  till  even  you,  with  all  your  abstract 
thought  and  endless  study,  began  to  feel  it, 
as  I  had  felt  it  from  the  first.  When  you 
told  me  that  story  of  the  cavern,  I  knew  it 
must  come,  and  so  ...  I  began  to  fear 
even  as  you  had  feared  before  that  dark 
cavern — I,  too,  was  torn  by  fear  and  desire. 
But  when  Francesco  said  he  wished  you  to 
be  present  that  night,  I  knew  it  could  not 
be  prevented  and  said  to  myself,  I  have  done 
nothing  to  bring  this  about — it  is  fate — I 
cannot  resist.  And  when  I  saw  you  at 
table,  wearied  by  the  empty  talk  and  the  silly 
laughter,  I  knew  how  it  would  come.  And 
you,  my  beloved  Leonardo,  know  how  it  came. 
— Was  it  you  or  was  it  I?  It  was  neither, 


LISA  147 

nor  was  it  both.  The  magnet  and  the  steel 
do  nothing:  it  is,  even  as  you  have  told  me, 
the  force  of  nature  that  brings  them  together 
— that  brought  us  together.  And  now 
.  .  .  perfection  .  .  . 

And  yet  I  sometimes  feel  that  I  may  be 
sinning  in  loving  more  than  one.  I  fear  that 
this  love  of  ours,  with  all  its  beauty  and  per- 
fection may  yet  bring  evil  to  us  and  to  those 
we  love.  Will  not  jealousy  arise?  and  from 
jealousy,  hatred  and  strife  and  .  .  . 
Are  you  not  a  little  jealous  of  Francesco! 
of  Salai?  I  know  that  Salai,  poor  boy,  is 
jealous  of  Francesco  and  of  you — you  whom 
he  loves  so  much — because  he  knows  how 
small  he  is  in  comparison  with  his  master. 
And  Francesco,  too,  would  be  jealous  of  you 
both,  if  he  were  not  so  involved  in  his  com- 
merce and  in  the  affairs  of  Florence,  that  he 
has  but  little  time  to  think  of  his  household, 
of  his  wife,  except  when  she  thrusts  herself 
upon  him — and  then  I  must  perforce  say  he 
does  all  that  any  woman  should  expect.  Tell 
me,  my  wise  Leonardo,  how  am  I  to  divide 
myself  into  three  Lisas,  and  yet  remain  my- 
self, my  true  self,  the  Lisa  that  loves  Leo- 
nardo f 


148  MONNA  LISA 

Leonardo  to  Lisa. 

True  love,  my  beloved,  is  not  like  silver 
and  gold  or  earthly  possessions  in  that  what 
you  give  to  one  you  must  fain  keep  away 
from  another;  but  it  is  like  divine  knowledge, 
like  celestial  wisdom,  in  that  the  more  of  it 
you  give  away  the  more  you  will  have  to  give 
and  that  in  fuller  measure.  If  you  love 
truly — not  with  mere  earthly  desire,  but  with 
celestial  fervor — you  will  find  that  the  more 
you  love  your  husband,  the  more  you  will  be 
able  to  love  Drea,  the  more  you  will  be  able 
to  love  me,  the  more  you  will  be  able  to 
love  all  mankind:  you  will  love  as  the  Great 
Prime  Mover  and  Creator  must  love,  with- 
out limits,  without  withholding — not  loving 
all  in  the  same  way,  but  giving  to  each  what 
is  fitting  and  necessary  to  him.  I  would  not 
have  the  love  you  should  give  Francesco,  nor 
the  affection  which  Drea 's  beauty  and  sweet- 
ness awakens  in  your  heart,  for  neither 
would  be  adequate  to  that  infinite  desire 
which  you  so  truly  say  you  see  in  my  eyes. 
One  love  should  not  take  from  another,  but 
each  should  strengthen,  should  deepen  the 
other ;  even  as  the  stars  move  in  harmony  in 


LISA  149 

the  heavens,  so  should  these  loves  move  in 
harmony  in  your  soul. 

As  for  jealousy,  such  a  monstrous  thought 
never  entered  the  mind  of  Leonardo.  There 
is  no  insanity  so  senseless  as  jealousy,  which 
destroys  the  very  thing  it  would  preserve 
— love.  Jealousy  arises  only  when  love  is 
imperfect,  is  limited,  and  therefore — not 
being  able  to  behold,  to  comprehend,  the  in- 
finity of  true  love — desires  to  limit  the  be- 
loved by  its  own  limitations,  its  own  imper- 
fections. But  the  lover  who  loves  with 
celestial  love,  which  is  infinite,  knows  that 
he  himself  is  finite,  and  so  may  in  many  ways 
fail  to  satisfy  all  the  nature  of  his  beloved. 
Therefore  he  rejoices  at  the  love  which  his 
beloved  lavishes  upon  another,  knowing  that, 
as  all  powers  grow  stronger  by  being  em- 
ployed, the  true  celestial  love  which  his  be- 
loved gives  him  will  thus  become  greater  and 
greater,  and  in  truth  will  have  no  limit,  no 
end. 

No  true  lover  will  place  limits  upon  his 
beloved,  or  will  make  rules  to  regulate  her 
conduct,  to  take  away  her  liberty;  for  where 
there  is  liberty  there  is  no  rule,  no  limitation, 
and  only  in  perfect  liberty  can  the  true  celes- 


150  MONNA  LISA 

tial  love  exist — the  love  of  one  free  soul  for 
another  free  soul.  And  this,  my  beloved,  I 
deem  to  be  the  nature  of  our  love,  and  may 
our  Creator  grant  that  it  may  never  change 
or  be  limited  by  mere  earthly  desire  or  hell- 
ish jealousy.  For  my  part  I  cannot  see 
how  .  .  . 

Lisa  to  Leonardo. 

You  may  remember,  my  beloved  wise  man, 
that  I  once  said  to  you:  "Do  not  discover, 
if  your  liberty  is  dear  to  you.  My  face  is 
the  prison  of  love."  Since  I  have  read  your 
letter  I  have  often  thought  of  those  words 
and  of  what  was  in  my  mind  when  I  said 
them.  Some  day  I  shall  tell  you,  when  we 
are  close  together,  and  I  can  look  into  your 
eyes,  and  mayhap  if  the  touch  of  your  lips 
unlock  my  heart.  Meanwhile,  think  of  them, 
my  wise  Leonardo.  You  may  tell  me  your 
thought  if  you  choose.  .  .  . 

I  feel,  as  I  have  always  felt  that  I  am  not 
as  great  as  you,  that  I  can  never  become  as 
great.  It  is  true  that  jealousy  is  insanity, 
it  is  true  that  it  destroys  the  very  thing  it 
desires  to  preserve — but  could  I  bear  to  see 
you  love  another  woman? — I  do  not  know. 


LISA  151 

Perhaps,  under  the  influence  of  your  celes- 
tial love,  nay,  of  our  celestial  love,  I  may 
grow  as  great  as  you,  or  so  great  at  least  as 
to  be  above  jealousy,  and  be  able  to  bless 
the  love  of  Leonardo  for  another  woman. 
Perhaps — perhaps — But  now  I  pray  I  may 
be  spared  that  trial.  I  want  no  spot  on  the 
perfection  of  our  love.  .  .  . 

Leonardo  to  Lisa. 

[At  Rome.]  I  am,  my  beloved,  very  busy 
inspecting  the  fortifications  of  the  city, 
drawing  up  plans  for  fortresses  and  siege 
works.  Not  once  have  I  touched  brush  or 
pencil ;  for  the  Most  High  Pontiff  could  gain 
the  consent  of  the  Signory  to  my  coming 
only  on  the  condition  of  my  not  painting, 
since  they  are  most  desirous  that  I  should 
finish  the  battle  picture.  Thus  I  am  en- 
gaged entirely  on  things  of  utility  and  not 
of  beauty — were  it  not  that  I  have  your  face 
with  its  subtle  smile  to  dream  of,  that  I  have 
our  celestial  love  to  raise  me  from  earth  to 
heaven.  For  there  is  very  little  of  heaven 
here,  except  in  the  words  of  the  mass — the 
chanting  of  which  is  a  veritable  mockery, 
with  the  Most  Holy  Father,  the  vice-gerent 


152  MONNA  LISA 

on  earth  of  the  Prince  of  Peace,  selling  his 
Lord  for  coin  in  order  to  carry  on  war,  to 
win  lands  and  fortresses,  and  to  slay  the 
bodies  of  men,  whose  souls  he  is  supposed 
to  save.  "While  in  place  of  the  simple  fish- 
ermen, clad  in  poor  raiment,  who  followed 
our  Lord  Christ  when  He  was  upon  earth, 
you  can  see  only  dissolute  cardinals  and  bish- 
ops, clad  in  silk  and  gold  and  jewels,  traf- 
ficking for  place  and  power  with  gold  and 
lies,  or  spending  the  revenues  of  Holy 
Church  on  debauched  women  of  the  town  or 
blasphemous  men-at-arms.  You  recall  the 
story  in  the  Decameron  of  the  converted  Jew, 
who  would  go  to  Eome  in  spite  of  all  that 
the  simple  Christian  who  had  converted  him 
could  do  to  prevent  it,  and  how  he  returned, 
strengthened  in  his  faith,  because  the  Church 
of  Christ  persisted  in  spite  of  its  ministers. 
.  .  .  But  this  does  not  disturb  me,  as  it 
did  poor  Fra  Girolamo  Savonarola,  or  as 
it  does  Messer  Michel  Angelo. — I  only 
smile  as  I  think  of  the  pride  of  little  men, 
who,  because  they  seem  to  rule  others  deem 
themselves  great  and  powerful ;  when  neither 
prince  nor  prelate  can  by  all  his  armies,  for- 
tresses, dungeons,  chains,  or  instruments  of 


LISA  153 

torture,  rule  one  other  single  free  soul,  or 
take  away  from  him  the  only  true  liberty, 
the  liberty  of  thought. — As  for  me,  I  have 
the  perfect  liberty  of  our  celestial  love,  and 
why  should  the  doings  of  popes  or  emper- 
ors, despots  or  petty  seignories  trouble 
me?  .  .  . 

There  are  many  learned  men  here,  and  I 
have  had  a  little  pleasure  in  their  company, 
but  not  much.  As  the  men  of  the  world  from 
pope  to  gonfalonier  care  only  for  practical 
results  and  not  for  the  causes,  the  laws  by 
which  artificiosa  natura  produces  them,  so 
these  learned  men  care  more  for  words,  than 
for  the  truths  that  can  be  expressed  by 
words.  They  are  men  of  great  memory  and 
can  quote  Plato  and  Aristotle  and  Ptolemy 
and  St.  Thomas  with  astonishing  volubility 
and  aptness.  But  the  most  enlightened  of 
them  consider  my  researches  as  a  waste  of 
valuable  time,  which  might  be  spent  in  paint- 
ing, and  the  stupid  ones  are  sure  that  I  am 
dabbling  in  such  false  sciences  as  alchemy  or 
astrology  or  even  the  black  art  and  have  deal- 
ings with  spirits.  Yet,  why  should  I  care! 
I  can  well  afford  to  smile  at  their  ignorance. 
— No,  mayhap  they  are  not  so  ignorant,  for 


154  MONNA  LISA 

I  do  have  dealings  with  a  spirit,  the  spirit  of 
our  celestial  love,  which  brings  you  to  me 
even  though  many  leagues  away,  so  that  I 
feel  you  near  me  all  the  waking  hours  as  well 
as  in  dreams, — and  this  same  spirit,  far  more 
powerful  than  any  that  foolish  folk  believe 
can  be  raised  by  necromancy,  raises  me  into 
the  third  heaven,  where,  like  Saint  Paul,  I 
see  and  hear  things  that  are  unlawful  for  me 
to  tell.  And  so,  my  beloved  .  .  . 

Lisa  to  Leonardo. 

.  .  .  And  I  see  clearly  the  truth  of  what 
you  say,  namely,  that  "you  must  give  full 
liberty  to  others  if  you  would  possess  liberty 
yourself."  It  is  even  as  clear  and  simple 
as  that  saying  of  our  Lord  Christ:  "Do  unto 
others  as  you  would  they  should  do  unto 
you."  In  truth  it  is  but  a  single  applica- 
tion of  that  rule.  But,  do  you  know,  my 
wise  man,  even  because  it  is  so  simple  it  is 
so  difficult — at  least  to  those  who  live  in  this 
complicated  world,  where  so  many  conflicting 
things  beset  them  at  once.  It  is  easy  for 
children,  because  their  natures  are  simple,— 
and  I  also  know  it  is  written,  "Unless  ye 
become  as  one  of  these  little  ones  ye  cannot 


LISA  155 

enter  into  the  kingdom  of  Heaven."  But, 
Leonardo,  my  beloved,  it  is  so  difficult,  when 
you  know  you  have  power  over  another,  to 
refrain  from  using  it — if  only  to  discover 
how  great  that  power  may  be — to  make  an 
experiment.  You  recall  how  often  you  have 
told  me  that  one  must  make  experiments  to 
discover  the  truth  of  anything — and  may  not 
experiments  be  necessary  for  me  to  find  out 
the  full  extent  of  my  power?  .  .  . 

And  I  wore  a  dress  of  white  tdbi  brocaded 
with  gold,  and  closely  fitting  sleeves  of  gold 
brocade;  my  necklace  was  of  large  pearls, 
my  hair  was  bound  in  a  gold  net  studded 
with  pearls,  my  slippers  were  of  white  silk 
embroidered  with  gold  and  pearls,  and  my 
mantle  was  of  brown  velvet  trimmed  with 
marten  fur.  Many  ladies  as  well  as  cav- 
aliers gathered  about  me.  .  .  .  And, 
my  beloved  wise  man,  could  I  help  feel- 
ing and  knowing  my  power?  Was  it  possi- 
ble to  refrain  from  using  it?  In  truth  I 
will  confess  I  made  several  experiments. 
My  beloved  Leonardo,  who  adores  liberty 
so  much,  will  not,  I  know,  grudge  his  Lisa 
a  little  liberty  to  indulge  her  caprices,  to 
find  some  amusement  in  the  sighs  of  Ian- 


156  MONNA  LISA 

guishing  swains.  .  .  .  And  the  Great 
Captain  came  to  me  after  the  pavane  and 
said  that  my  dancing  was  more  than  mortal, 
since  I  could  surpass  Terpsichore  herself. 
.  .  .  Indeed  while  the  festivities  contin- 
ued I  enjoyed  my  little  reign  of  glory;  but 
when,  in  the  early  dawn,  I  laid  myself  down 
on  my  bed,  my  thoughts  flew  north  to  the 
Umbrian  hills,  where  you  are  now  on  your 
way  back  to  our  dear  Florence — that  city 
where  I  first  really  began  to  live,  and  where 
I  long  to  be  so  that  I  may  live  again  in  your 
presence.  All  my  liberty,  all  my  triumphs, 
all  this  empty  or  evil  admiration,  would  I 
gladly  give  for  one  hour  with  you,  my  Leo- 
nardo, my  beloved,  when  I  could  bind  my 
arms  about  your  dear  neck  like  a  chain  and 
deprive  you  as  well  as  myself  of  that  liberty, 
which  is  far  more  grievous  than  slavery — 
siece  we  are  apart.  But  it  will  not  be  long. 
In  the  early  spring  I  shall  return — and  then, 
my  beloved,  .  .  . 

Leonardo  to  Lisa. 

[Again  at  Florence.]  ...  I  sit  and 
gaze  at  your  portrait  every  day.  Imperfect 
as  it  is,  it  brings  you,  my  beloved,  near  me, 


LISA  157 

and  my  memory  supplies  what  the  picture 
lacks.  I  see  your  bosom  rise  and  fall,  your 
eyes  fill  with  celestial  light,  and  on  your  lips 
hovers  your  ineffable  smile.  But  I  do  not 
take  up  my  brush,  fearing  to  work  without 
the  inspiration  of  your  presence ;  for  I  do  not 
wish  your  portrait  to  be  a  product  of  my 
imagination,  but  your  very  self — and  noth- 
ing can  be  more  perfect  than  that.  When 
you  return,  the  first  thing  must  be  to  finish 
your  portrait.  Then  with  that  completed,  I 
may  be  able  to  resume  work  on  the  battle 
picture,  for  which  the  Gonfalonier  grows 
more  and  more  impatient.  .  .  .  Come, 
my  beloved,  come.  .  .  . 

Last  night  I  was  singing  softly  to  my  lute, 
and  these  words  from  among  those  I  sang 
have  remained  in  my  memory.  They  are 
very  simple  and  even  crude — being  but  an 
improvisation — but  I  shall  make  no  effort  to 
improve  them,  sending  them  to  you  even  as 
they  came  to  me : 

My  heart  it  wears  a  wondrous  chain, 

That  leads,  my  love,  to  thee, 
And  binds  me  fast  in  thy  dear  love, 

Wherever  I  may  be. 


158  MONNA  LISA 

And,  though  it  be  a  golden  chain, 
Its  links  are  strong  as  steel ; 

But  I,  within  it  fettered  fast, 
The  truest  freedom  feel. 

For  my  own  soul  has  forged  this  chain, 
Each  link  a  thought  of  thee, 

And  every  link  is  welded  firm 
By  thy  dear  thoughts  of  me. 

Yet  this  strange  chain  is  light  as  air, 
'Twould  vanish  with  a  breath 

Of  doubt  or  fear.     Ah !  may  it  last, 
And  bind  us,  love,  in  death. 


VII 

AT  THE   VILLA 

WHEN  Madonna  Lisa  returned  from  Na- 
ples, on  the  first  of  May,  1506,  she  did  not 
come  home  to  Florence,  but  tarried  in  the 
Giocondo  villa,  on  the  slopes  of  Vallambrosa, 
a  little  beyond  Sant'  Ellero.  There  Messer 
Francesco  had  met  her  as  she  came  down 
from  Arezzo,  and,  as  it  was  unseasonably 
warm  and  unhealthy  in  Florence,  and  as  she, 
moreover,  was  somewhat  ill  and  much  worn 
from  her  journey,  he  persuaded  her  to  remain 
in  that  elevated  and  salubrious  spot  until 
either  she  should  recover  her  strength,  or 
until  the  weather  in  Florence  should  grow 
cooler. 

She  sent  me,  however,  the  following  letter 
by  the  hand  of  Messer  Francesco,  who 
brought  it  to  me  at  Fiesole,  where  I  was 
with  my  Uncle  Ambrogio,  studying  geometry 
and  the  flight  of  birds,  because  at  that  time 
I  could  not  endure  to  use  the  brush : 

159 


160  MONNA  LISA 

"Beloved  Master  Leonardo:  I  hope  in  a 
few  days  to  be  able  to  go  on  to  Florence  and 
to  see  you  and  my  other  friends  again  after 
this  long  absence.  I  charge  you  to  have  ev- 
erything prepared,  so  that  when  I  shall  ar- 
rive we  may  be  able  at  once  to  work  on  the 
portrait ;  for  indeed  I  have  set  my  heart  upon 
having  it  finished  in  time  for  my  husband's 
birthday.  And,  moreover,  I  pray  you,  for 
the  love  you  bear  me,  to  send  me  Salai  with 
your  lute,  in  order  that  he  may  cheer  up 
my  sad  spirit,  and  comfort  me  with  his 
music." 

With  Salai  I  sent  a  brief  reply  in  which 
I  wrote  that  she  must  avoid  physicians  and 
drugs  and  damp,  and  must  keep  her  mind 
as  cheerful  and  gay  as  possible,  to  aid  which 
purpose  I  was  certain  no  one  was  so  well 
fitted  as  Salai — who  indeed  was  almost  be- 
side himself  with  joy  at  the  prospect  of  see- 
ing his  lady  before  his  master  did.  .  .  . 
I  returned  to  Florence,  where  I  was  very 
lonely,  although  my  house  was  filled  with 
servants  and  pupils.  I  put  the  little  court 
in  order  with  my  own  hands,  not  suffering 
anyone  but  myself  to  touch  anything.  And, 
as  I  brought  out  the  portrait  and  placed  it 


LISA  161 

upon  the  easel,  I  mused  upon  what  would  be 
her  home  coming. 

A  few  days  later,  Messer  Francesco — who 
indeed  rode  frequently  back  and  forth  be- 
tween the  city  and  his  villa — came  to  me  and 
begged  that  I  would  go  with  him  to  Vallam- 
brosa  and  bring  Madonna  Lisa's  picture  and 
my  colors;  since  she  had  so  set  her  heart 
upon  having  the  portrait  completed  that  he 
feared  lest  her  recovery  might  be  retarded 
if  her  wish  were  not  granted.  He  said, 
moreover,  that,  being  exceedingly  desirous, 
she  had  already  caused  laborers  to  go  to 
work  upon  a  small  court  in  the  villa,  in  order 
that  it  might  be  as  nearly  as  possible  like 
unto  the  one  in  my  house.  He  knew  this  wasi 
a  great  thing  to  ask,  seeing  that  I  had  refused 
a  similar  favor  to  the  Marchioness  of  Man- 
tua, but  he  entreated  me  by  the  love  I  bore 
him  and  Madonna  Lisa  to  grant  his  prayer. 

He  was  much  surprised  when  I  agreed  to 
go  as  soon  as  I  could  make  the  necessary 
preparations.  But  I  told  him  that  it  was  one 
thing  to  refuse  a  great  lady,  who  merely 
wished  to  possess  a  picture  by  Leonardo 
Vincio,  and  another  to  deny  a  sick  woman 
the  gratification  of  a  harmless  desire. 


162  MONNA  LISA 

I  got  all  things  ready  as  rapidly  as  was 
possible,  wondering  meanwhile  how  my  lady 
would  appear  after  her  long  absence,  and 
whether  her  illness  had  changed  her  in  any 
marked  degree,  but  resolved  at  all  events  to 
bring  the  portrait  speedily  to  what  might  be 
called  completion  in  order  that  her  desire 
should  be  fulfilled. 

On  the  morrow,  shortly  after  midday,  I 
started  with  Messer  Francesco,  he  having 
sent  forward  the  night  before  a  servant  with 
the  news  of  our  coming,  and  in  due  time  we 
arrived  at  the  villa.  My  lady  accompanied 
by  Salai  was  at  the  gate  to  greet  us,  for  she 
had  seen  us  afar  off  as  we  were  coming  up 
the  mountain.  She  was  somewhat  thinner, 
and  her  face  was  for  the  most  part  very 
pale,  but  there  was  a  bright  flush  upon  her 
cheeks,  and,  moreover,  her  eyes  seemed  ex- 
ceedingly large  and  bright.  When  I  alighted 
from  my  horse  she  extended  her  hand,  and, 
as  I  took  it  to  raise  it  to  my  lips,  she  pressed 
her  fingers  lightly  upon  mine.  Then  she 
said  smiling: 

"Welcome,  Master  Leonardo.  I  thank 
you  much  for  coming  with  such  speed. 
Francesco,"  she  continued,  turning  to  her 


LISA  163 

husband,  *  *  I  am  feeling  much  better  in  health 
to-day.  This  fresh  air  of  the  mountains  and 
Salai's  music  have  already  done  much  for  my 
spirits.  And  now,  with  the  Master  to  finish 
my  portrait  and  to  amuse  me  with  his  stories, 
it  will  not  be  long  before  I  shall  be  fully  re- 
covered." Then  turning  to  me  she  said, 
"Though  Salai  and  I  have  urged  on  the 
workmen  with  all  our  power  to-day,  the 
court  is  not  yet  ready.  But  happily  this  is 
not  so  great  a  misfortune,  as  you  will  now 
be  able  to  superintend  the  work  yourself,  and 
have  it  finished  to  your  mind." 

After  going  to  look  at  the  court,  on  which 
indeed  much  progress  had  been  made,  and 
charging  the  workmen  to  return  the  next  day 
at  an  early  hour,  as  the  sun  was  now  near  its 
setting,  we  went  in  to  dinner. 

During  and  after  the  meal  my  lady  was  so 
light  hearted  and  gay  that  Master  Francesco 
laughed  and  said: 

"Is  it  not  true,  Master  Leonardo,  that  the 
only  thing  needed  to  restore  an  ailing  woman 
to  health  is  to  give  her  her  will,  and  that  the 
sure  way  to  kill  her  is  to  deny  it  unto  her?" 

To  this  I  assented,  seeing  that  my  lady 
did  not  seem  to  take  it  amiss,  but  added: 


164  MONNA  LISA 

"Yet  in  the  case  of  Madonna  Lisa,  there  is 
a  great  difference,  inasmuch  as  she  wills  only 
good  and  profitable  things,  while  for  the 
greater  part  of  womankind,  their  wills  are 
perverse,  and  to  indulge  them  often  leads  to 
their  bane  and  even  destruction." 

"You  speak  truly,"  said  Master  Fran- 
cesco, "for  you  must  always  make  an  excep- 
tion in  the  case  of  Lisa.  She  is  indeed  wise 
beyond  the  nature  of  womankind." 

"Certainly,"  I  added,  "she  is  not  to  be 
compared  with  other  women."  And  looking 
at  my  lady  I  saw  that  she  understood. 

She  amused  us,  moreover,  with  descrip- 
tions of  the  stately  Spanish  grandees,  who 
now  rule  in  Naples,  and  of  the  severe  and 
solemn  manners  and  customs  that  prevail 
among  them  and  how  they  appear  when 
compared  with  the  gay  and  frivolous  Neapol- 
itans. Many  comic  anecdotes  she  also  told 
us  concerning  the  people  she  had  met,  which 
caused  Messer  Francesco  and  me  to  laugh 
until  the  tears  came  into  our  eyes.  And  I 
remember  that  one  of  her  stories  was  as  fol- 
lows: 

"A  fair  lady  desired  a  certain  Spanish  cav- 
alier to  dance  with  her,  and,  on  his  refusal, 


LISA  165 

offered  him  music  and  other  entertainments ; 
but  he  proudly  declared  that  such  trifles  were 
not  his  profession.  At  last  she  asked  him: 
'What  is  then  your  profession,  Signore?' 
With  a  frown  he  replied,  'To  fight.'  Then 
said  the  lady:  'Seeing  that  you  are  not  now 
in  war,  nor  in  any  place  to  fight,  I  marvel 
that  you  do  not  have  yourself  and  your  har- 
ness greased  and  hung  up  with  other  imple- 
ments of  war  in  an  armory,  lest  you  should 
become  even  more  rusty  than  you  are 
now.'  " 

My  lady  then  made  me  tell  of  the  state  of 
affairs  in  Rome  and  of  the  manner  in  which 
the  Church  is  now  managed,  and  much  did 
Messer  Francesco  laugh — especially  when  I 
told  them  how  a  witty  Eoman  said,  that 
Venus  had  reigned  in  the  City  of  Saint  Peter 
with  the  Borgia,  and  now  Mars  ruled  with 
the  Eovere,  and  the  good  Lord  only  knew 
what  pagan  deity  would  come  to  rule  them 
when  Julius  passed  away. 

All  the  time,  however,  I  noticed  that  Salai, 
who  stood  near  my  lady,  remained  with  a 
woe-begone  countenance.  This  made  me  re- 
solve to  call  him  to  account  for  his  melan- 
choly, since  this  was  by  no  means  fitting  for 


166  MONNA  LISA 

one  who  had  been  sent  to  cheer  and  comfort 
the  failing  spirits  of  my  lady. 

After  she  had  retired  to  rest,  Messer  Fran- 
cesco talked  long  with  me  about  the  threat- 
ening state  of  affairs  in  Italy,  which  was 
much  exercising  the  minds  of  the  Signory 
and  of  the  Gonfalonier.  There  were  not  only 
rumors,  but  even  strong  proofs  of  an  agree- 
ment between  the  Catholic  King,  the  Most 
Christian  King,  the  Eoman  Emperor,  and  the 
Most  High  Pontiff  to  despoil  Venice.  If 
this  were  true  Florence  would  be  obliged  to 
join  in  the  league.  And  though  he  could  not 
lament  any  misfortunes  that  might  befall 
greedy  and  grasping  Venice,  he  feared  that 
in  the  future  Florence  might  suffer  the  same 
fate.  "It  was  an  evil  day  for  Italy,"  he 
said,  "when  Duke  Ludovico  called  in  the 
barbarians ;  and  though  it  had  been  by  their 
assistance  that  we  regained  our  liberty,  yet 
our  riches,  and  the  beauty  and  the  glory  of 
our  city  were  so  great,  and  the  .  .  ." 


vm 

IN   THE   LOGGIA 

DUEING  the  last  day  I  superintended  the 
workmen  in  the  preparation  of  the  court, 
while  my  lady  sat  by  with  Messer  Francesco, 
and  in  the  pauses  of  the  work  made  us  merry 
with  her  lively  stories  and  witty  sayings. 
About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  there  came 
a  messenger  from  the  Gonfalonier  requiring 
the  immediate  presence  of  Messer  Francesco. 
He  was  soon  ready  to  set  forth,  and,  as  he 
mounted  his  horse,  said  to  my  lady,  who 
stood  near  by: 

"I  cannot  say  when  I  shall  be  able  to  re- 
turn, but,  with  Salai  to  play  the  lute  and  to 
sing  for  you,  with  Master  Leonardo  to  paint 
your  portrait  and  to  amuse  you  with  his 
merry  tales,  and,  above  all,  with  your  hus- 
band absent  in  Florence,  your  complete  re- 
covery should  be  sure  and  speedy.  I  shall 
expect  to  see  another  Lisa  when  I  return. ' ' 

167 


168  MONNA  LISA 

"In  truth  yon  will,"  she  replied,  answer- 
ing his  laugh  with  a  merry  smile. 

"And  I  shall  endeavor  with  all  my  power 
to  keep  Madonna  from  grieving  over  your 
absence,"  I  added,  joining  in  his  laughter. 
Salai,  however,  did  not  laugh,  and  his  brow 
grew  darker  than  before. 

So  Messer  Francesco  rode  away,  and  we 
returned  to  the  house.  But  with  his  depar- 
ture the  lightsome  spirit  that  had  ruled  us 
all  day  departed  also.  My  lady  spoke  rarely, 
and  then  quietly  and  with  but  few  words. 
And,  after  watching  the  progress  of  the  work 
in  the  court  for  a  while,  she  retired  to  her 
own  room,  saying  that  she  sorely  needed  rest 
as  she  had  slept  but  little  the  preceding  night. 
I  then  urged  on  the  work  bravely,  so  that 
everything  was  finished  before  it  was  time 
for  the  laborers  to  depart.  For  I  felt  that  if 
the  painting  were  not  resumed  the  following 
day  my  lady's  melancholy  would  surely  re- 
turn. There  was  something  in  the  expres- 
sion of  her  eyes  that  I  did  not  understand 
at  that  time,  but  I  considered  that  her  illness 
was  likely  to  return  with  added  force  because 
of  her  unwonted  gayety  since  my  arrival. 

But  when  she  appeared  at  the  evening 


LISA  169 

meal,  her  eyes  were  once  more  glowing,  and 
her  spirits  were  merrier  than  before.  She 
talked  almost  incessantly,  flitting  from  one 
thing  to  another, — only  occasionally  desiring 
me  to  speak.  When  the  platters  were  re- 
moved she  called  upon  Salai  to  sing  for  her, 
and  to  sing  only  my  songs.  He  indeed  com- 
plied, but  sang  so  badly  that  she  soon  sent 
him  away,  and  when  he  had  gone  she  asked 
me  to  take  the  lute,  and  said : 

"My  Leonardo,  I  know  that  you  do  not 
wish  to  sing;  but,  ever  since  you  sent  me 
those  verses  about  the  chain,  I  have  longed 
to  hear  the  melody  to  which  you  sang  them, 
so  that  when  I  am  alone  I  may  be  able  to 
sing  them  to  myself.  You  will  not  refuse  me 
this  little  favor,  my  Leonardo?" 

"I  can  refuse  nothing  to  my  Lisa,"  I  an- 
swered. Then  taking  the  lute  I  tuned  it  to 
the  proper  mode  and  sang  the  verses  very 
softly  so  that  there  should  be  no  harsh 
tones. 

When  I  had  ended  she  asked  me  to  repeat 
it,  and  as  I  sang  she  sang  with  me,  for  she 
knew  the  words,  and  truly  it  was  very  beauti- 
ful. 

It  was  now  evening,  and,  saying  that  it  was 


170  MONNA  LISA 

stifling  within,  she  led  me  by  the  hand  out 
into  the  loggia,  which  commanded  a  view  of 
the  country  beneath  us  extending  down  the 
valley  of  Arno  towards  Florence,  a  view  that 
lost  itself  in  subtle  lights  and  shadows,  for 
the  moon,  now  in  its  first  quarter,  was  slowly 
sinking  toward  the  western  hills. 

We  sat  side  by  side  on  a  great  stone  bench, 
and  for  a  time  silently  gazed  upon  the  land- 
scape, my  lady  still  holding  my  hand.  I  felt 
that  some  strange  power  choked  my  utter- 
ance, and  mayhap  the  same  thing  was  true  of 
her.  At  length  she  turned  to  me  and  spoke : 

"Leonardo,  my  love,  when  I  was  far  away 
from  you  in  Naples,  I  longed  for  nothing  so 
much  as  to  be  with  you,  to  tell  you  many 
things  that  troubled  my  mind  but  of  which  I 
could  not  write,  and  to  hear  your  dear  voice 
in  your  wise  replies.  But  now  that  we  are 
together — alone — I  desire  only  silence.  I  de- 
sire only  to  feel  you  near  me. — Yet  if 
you — " 

"No,  my  Lisa,  the  hour  is  not  for  words. 
I  also  desire  silence — and  your  presence. ' ' 

So  we  spoke  no  more,  and,  not  daring  to 
look  into  each  other's  eyes,  we  gazed  down 
into  the  valley  or  into  the  heavens  with  the 


LISA  171 

sinking  moon  and  the  few  large  stars.  From 
time  to  time  my  lady  pressed  my  hand  trem- 
ulously and  my  fingers  closed  upon  hers. 
Truly  there  was  no  need  for  speech  in  that 
holy  hour. 

The  moon  sank  lower  and  lower.  At  last 
it  was  hidden  behind  the  crest  of  a  distant 
hill,  while  the  sky  above  it  glowed  with  a 
golden  light,  and  two  little  specks  of  clouds 
glittered  for  a  space  like  silver  stars.  Then 
the  golden  light  faded  away;  it  grew  very 
dark.  I  felt  the  clasp  of  my  lady's  hand 
tighten,  and  her  other  hand  stole  softly  to  my 
neck.  I  drew  her  closer  till  I  felt  her  warm 
breath  upon  my  face  and  her  trembling  lips 
laid  softly  upon  mine,  drawing  my  very  soul 
into  her  own. 

How  long  we  remained  thus  I  know  not, 
but  suddenly  it  seemed  as  though  I  were 
wrapped  in  a  consuming  flame.  I  clasped 
her  closely  to  my  breast,  my  lips  pressed 
hard  on  hers,  and  I  felt  her  heart  beating 
fast  against  mine.  Then  I  strove  to  draw 
her  still  closer.  For  a  moment  she  yielded. 
But  suddenly  she  became  rigid;  then  shiv- 
ered away  from  out  my  arms.  I  could  see 
her  shadowy  figure  in  the  dim  starlight  stand- 


172  MONNA  LISA 

ing  before  me,  her  hands  pressed  upon  her 
breast. 

"You! — Leonardo! — you!"  she  cried  in 
horror. 

"I — thought — you — called  me,"  I  stam- 
mered. But  made  no  movement,  for  I  was 
as  though  I  had  seen  the  head  of  Medusa. 

"Oh!"  she  moaned,  and  then  fled  swiftly 
within. 


IX 

DABKNESS  AND  FLIGHT 

APTEB  my  lady  had  left  me,  I  sat  for  a 
time  motionless.  That  thing,  against  which 
I  had  guarded  myself  for  years,  had  hap- 
pened. The  flesh  had  for  an  instant  over- 
powered the  spirit,  and  had  gained  its  brief 
supremacy  in  a  moment  of  the  loftiest  exal- 
tation— so  lofty  that  all  restraint  had  been 
forgotten.  True  is  the  saying,  "Let  him 
who  thinketh  he  standeth  take  heed  lest  he 
fall."  At  first  there  was  anger  in  my  heart 
because,  after  having  tempted  me  by  her 
caresses,  she  had  so  suddenly  repulsed  me. 
But  then,  as  I  sat  there  in  the  darkness,  and 
the  night  breeze  cooled  my  face,  I  was  thank- 
ful that  my  lady  had  been  able  to  save  her- 
self even  at  the  last  moment.  For  our  love 
was  a  love  of  the  spirit,  and  to  submerge  it 
beneath  the  flood  of  animal  passion  would 
destroy  it  forever  or  make  it  like  the  common 
loves  of  common  men,  only  fit  to  abide  in 

173 


174  MONNA  LISA 

mud  and  filth.  The  love  of  woman  when  it  is 
an  inspiration  raises  you  to  the  highest 
heaven,  but  when  its  end  is  only  self  gratifi- 
cation it  sinks  you  to  the  lowest  hell.  Un- 
less you  restrain  your  passions  you  are  like 
the  beasts,  for  then  you  have  laid  aside  your 
reason  which  is  all  that  distinguishes  you 
from  them. 

When  I  had  regained  control  of  myself,  I 
considered  what  might  be  the  best  thing  to 
do.  I  feared  to  meet  my  lady,  lest  one  look 
from  her  eyes,  one  touch  from  her  hand 
should  bring  me  grovelling  to  her  feet  like 
the  foolish  lovers  I  had  always  held  in  con- 
tempt. Or  mayhap  I  might  draw  her  again 
to  me,  and  she  be  unable  to  save  herself  a 
second  time.  It  seemed  best  to  me  on  this 
account,  that  I  should  leave  that  place  and 
remain  away  from  my  lady  until  we  were 
both  so  certain  of  ourselves  that  nothing  un- 
premeditated could  befall  us.  For  that 
which  you  do  after  calm  deliberation  is  your 
own  act,  the  act  of  your  true  self,  of  your 
true  spirit,  because  it  is  the  result  of  reason ; 
but  that  which  is  done  from  sudden  passion 
is  but  the  act  of  your  body,  and,  as  your 
spirit  has  created  the  body  for  its  instru- 


LISA  175 

ment,  it  is  not  meet  that  the  instrument 
should  rule  its  maker. 

Therefore  I  went  into  the  house,  and  hav- 
ing awakened  Salai,  bade  him  saddle  my 
horse.  At  the  gate  I  charged  him  to  tell  my 
lady  that  I  had  returned  to  Florence  and 
from  there  would  write  unto  her. 

And  as  I  rode  onward  with  slackened  rein, 
letting  my  horse  find  his  own  way  through 
the  darkness,  my  mind  continued  to  meditate 
upon  what  had  befallen.  Though  at  first  my 
heart  again  grew  hot  with  anger  toward  my 
lady  because  she  had  tempted  me  by  her 
caresses,  yet  soon  the  flush  of  rage  once  more 
passed  away,  and,  in  its  place,  came  a  cold 
and  bitter  contempt  of  my  own  self,  in  that 
I,  who  had  deemed  myself  as  it  were  a  pilot 
to  guide  her  awakening  soul  into  the  calm 
havens  of  the  intellect  and  into  the  celestial 
regions  of  the  spirit,  had  foolishly  and 
blindly  permitted  myself  to  drift  with  her, 
enveloped  in  the  rosy  mist  of  her  bodily 
sweetness,  until  shipwreck  had  befallen  both 
of  us  and  our  celestial  love,  now  likely  to 
drown  in  the  bitter  waters  of  ... 

Was  it  true  then  that  the  love  of  the  soul 
was  not  to  be  achieved  by  mortal  men  and 


176  MONNA  LISA 

women,  and  that  the  celestial  heights  were 
not  to  be  attained  by  beings  held  down  to 
earth  through  their  animal  bodies  and  suf- 
focated by  the  seething  passions  that  arise 
therefrom?  Was  it  true  that  there  was  no 
woman  soul,  or,  if  there  were,  that  it  could 
not  be  revealed  to  man  because  of  fleshly 
barriers?  Was  celestial  love  but  an  empty 
dream  of  philosophers,  poets,  and  fools? 
And  as  these  thoughts  pursued  each  other 
through  the  tangled  forest  of  my  mind,  I  be- 
came almost  beside  myself  with  doubt  and 
despair. 

But  as  I  drew  near  the  city,  and  the  dawn 
stole  down  the  valley,  the  light  of  reason  be- 
gan to  dawn  once  more  within  my  soul,  and 
I  remembered  that  I  worshipped  the  wonder- 
ful justice  of  the  great  Prime  Mover,  because 
He  does  not  wish  that  any  force  or  potency 
should  fail  in  the  order  and  quality  of  its 
natural  effects,  whether  they  be  good  or  evil. 
Therefore  it  was  irrational  for  me  to  con- 
tinue being  angry  with  my  lady  or  even  with 
myself;  since,  of  a  truth,  our  souls,  being  in 
the  image  of  our  Creator  and  therefore  free, 
were  able  to  choose  that  this,  which  had  be- 
fallen us,  should  be  the  means  of  raising  us 


LISA  177 

to  still  loftier  heights  as  well  as  of  sinking  us 
to  darker  depths. 

Then  a  great  calm  came  over  me,  and,  with 
the  first  ray  of  the  sunrise  that  flashed  upon 
the  city,  it  seemed  as  though  my  lady  smiled 
on  me. 

When  I  reached  my  house  I  took  pen  and 
paper  and  wrote : 

"Had  I  not  been  Leonardo,  or  had  I  been 
younger  by  twenty  years,  I  might  have  re- 
mained with  you ;  but  as  I  am  Leonardo,  and 
have  seen  more  than  fifty  winters,  I  have 
gone  away.  I  have  done  this  because  of  the 
great  love  I  bear  you,  and  I  know  you  will 
understand." 

This  I  sent  immediately  by  Tommaso, 
charging  him  to  deliver  it  into  the  hands  of 
no  one  but  my  lady. 


A   SPIRIT   IN   PRISON 

TOMMASO  returned  that  same  day,  bringing 
with  him  the  portrait  and  the  following  let- 
ter: 

"When  I  had  left  you,  my  beloved,  I  went 
to  my  room,  but  was  not  able  to  sleep.  I 
tossed  about  feverishly,  crying  to  myself, 
'Leonardo,  Leonardo,  you  with  your  celestial 
spirit  and  your  face  like  a  god,  you  are  the 
one  thing  in  the  world  that  I  need,  and  yet 
I — who  have  lived  my  highest  life  through 
you — have  repulsed  you!  And  I  seemed 
utterly  low  and  vile  in  my  eyes,  unworthy 
that  you,  with  your  celestial  spirit  and  god- 
like eyes,  should  deign  to  look  upon  me. 
Then  the  image  of  Francesco,  to  whom  I  am 
bound  in  duty  and  by  a  blessed  sacrament, 
rose  before  me,  and  made  me  seem  still  more 
vile.  But  again  in  my  wicked  heart  would 
arise  the  longing  for  you,  with  your  face  like 
a  god,  and  again  I  would  cry :  'Leonardo,  my 

178 


LISA  179 

own  Leonardo,  my  Lion,  what  have  I  done  to 
you! — I  who  love  you  beyond  earth  and 
heaven!'  At  length,  unable  to  bear  the  tor- 
ment longer,  I  arose  and  wandered  about  the 
house  like  a  distracted  spirit,  fit  for  neither 
heaven  nor  hell.  As  I  passed  your  room  I 
looked  within,  the  door  being  open,  and  saw 
you  were  not  there.  I  entered — why,  I  know 
not — and  went  to  the  open  window.  I  heard 
voices  below  at  the  gate.  I  recognized  your 
dear  voice  and  that  of  Salai.  I  leaned  out  try- 
ing to  distinguish  what  you  were  saying,  for 
a  sudden  chill  swept  over  me  and  a  strange 
fear. — Then  I  heard  the  clatter  of  horse 
hoofs,  and  I  knew  you  were  gone.  In  my 
despair  I  cried  aloud,  'Leonardo,  Leonardo, 
do  not  leave  me!'  You  did  not  hear, — but 
Salai  heard — 

"Beloved,  beloved  Leonardo,  I  had  written 
thus  far  when  Tommaso  arrived  with  your 
brief  message.  I  know  the  great  love  you 
bear  me — would  I  were  worthy  of  it  I — and  I 
also  understand  why  you  went  away,  and 
why  you  wrote  as  you  have  written.  I  have 
kissed  the  dear  words  over  and  over  again, 
and  my  tears  have  almost  blotted  them  out. 
But  was  it  for  the  best?  God  knows.  I  can 


180  MONNA  LISA 

only  weep.  Shall  we  ever  again  be  to  each 
other  what  we  have  been  in  the  time  that  is 
past — so  long  past  that  it  seems  centuries 
ago?  Can  we  ever — ?  I  cannot  tell.  For, 
after  you,  my  beloved,  my  protector,  had 
gone  away,  something  befell  me — something 
unspeakable — and  I  am  no  more  the  same 
Lisa — the  Lisa  that  you  loved.  I  cannot 
write  it.  No,  no,  no ! — Mayhap  some  time — 
if  we  see  each  other  again,  and  I  am  sure  that 
you  still  love  me, — I  may  be  able  to  tell  you, 
and  you  to  understand — you,  who  under- 
stand everything — except  a  woman.  You 
with  the  face  of  a  god — 

"But  I  must  write  no  more,  or  I  shall  go 
mad.  My  brain  seems  whirling  around  like 
the  lost  souls  in  the  Inferno — those  souls 
who  died  for  love — do  you  recall  them,  Leo- 
nardo, my  Leonardo? 

"I  send  back  the  portrait  by  Tommaso — 
that  fatal  portrait! — for  I  know  that  now 
you  cannot  return  here, — and — even  if  you 
could  return,  you  would  not  find  the  same 
Lisa  you  have  been  painting  so  long.  May- 
hap some  day  I  may  by  your  help  be  myself 
again,  and  then — May  God  forgive  me  now, 
and  may  He  bless  you,  my  beloved,  forever 


LISA  181 

and  ever,  and  never  let  you  lose  your  love  for 
your  Lisa." 

When  I  had  read  this  I  pondered  long,  if 
perchance  I  might  discover  what  thing  could 
have  befallen  my  lady  that  had  so  affected 
her.  But  nothing  I  could  then  imagine 
seemed  sufficient  to  work  so  great  a  change 
as  this  distracted  letter  showed,  though  in- 
deed later  it  became  clear  to  me.  Then  tak- 
ing heart  I  wrote  again,  hoping  that  by  some 
chance  the  letter  might  bring  a  little  com- 
fort: 

"Beloved  lady,  do  not  grieve.  The  love 
of  my  spirit  for  your  spirit  is  unchanged. 
It  can  never  grow  less,  it  can  only  grow 
more  and  more,  as  the  flower  unfolds  in  its 
beauty  and  perfection.  Nothing  earthly  can 
blight  it,  since  it  is  of  the  spirit,  and,  you 
remember,  the  spirit  is  placed  above  the 
heavens.  Fear  not  for  the  future,  nor  fear 
anything  from  Leonardo's  love.  I  have 
never  sought,  and  shall  never  seek  to  draw 
you  to  me,  nor  would  I  even  take  you  were 
you  swept  to  me  by  a  sudden  flood  of  pas- 
sion. No,  my  beloved  lady,  I  would  not  take 
you,  unless  you  came  to  me  freely,  joyfully, 


182  MONNA  LISA 

deliberately,  even  as  a  loving  bride  goes  to 
her  beloved  spouse.  And  that — since  you 
feel  yourself  bound  to  your  Francesco,  and 
since  you  love  him  as  you  do — is  impossible. 
So  rest  assured,  my  beloved  lady,  in  the  per- 
fection and  unchangeableness  of  my  love, 
which  is  of  the  spirit,  and  which  demands 
nothing,  but  is  content  and  blissful  with 
whatever  love  and  favor  you  can  give  with 
perfect  freedom  and  without  injuring  or 
even  troubling  your  heavenly  soul. 

"YouR  LEONARDO." 

Tommaso  took  the  letter  the  next  morn- 
ing and  returned  with  this  reply: 

"My  beloved  and  wise  Leonardo,  it  may 
be  that  you  are  right.  It  is  my  steadfast 
hope  that  you  are  right,  and  that  the  future 
will  prove  it;  and  that,  mayhap,  some  day 
I  may  come  to  you  as  you  desire, — 'freely, 
joyfully,  deliberately,  even  as  a  loving  bride 
goes  to  her  beloved  spouse.'  For  I  know 
that  in  no  other  way  would  you  be  content. 
You,  who,  being  of  the  gods,  love  freedom 
above  all  things,  could  not  love  a  slave — a 
slave  of  passion,  even  though  it  were  a  pas- 


LISA  183 

sion  inspired  by  you.  Can  I,  a  poor,  weak 
woman,  become  one  of  the  gods  like  you? 
I  know  you  think  it  possible.  Oh!  that  you 
may  be  right.  But,  whatever  may  have  be- 
fallen or  may  befall,  be  sure  of  this,  that  your 
Lisa  loves  you  as  much  if  not  even  more 
than  you  love 

"YouB  LISA. 

"Francesco  came  after  I  had  written  the 
above.  He  knew  of  your  return  to  Florence, 
and  laughingly  said  that  nothing  more  could 
be  expected  of  such  a  fickle  man  as  you,  who 
never  was  able  to  hold  to  one  thing  long 
enough  to  make  good  gain  from  it.  I  did  not 
contradict  him,  for  I  know  that  the  very 
limitlessness  of  my  Leonardo's  mind  makes 
it  incomprehensible  to  other  men.  And,  as 
he  seemed  content  with  his  own  idea,  I  let 
him  think  I  agreed  with  him. 

"I  shall  give  this  letter  secretly  to  Tom- 
maso,  who  loves  you  well;  but  do  not  write 
to  me  again  until  I  send  you  word — probably 
by  Salai.  I  cannot  trust  my  own  servants, 
and  am  not  so  sure  of  Salai  now.  But  do 
not  forget  I  love  you.  I  love  you  with  all  my 
body,  soul,  and  spirit — and  I  kiss  your  feet.'* 


XI 

\ 

THE    DAGGEB 

I  WAITED  anxiously  for  several  days,  but 
Salai  did  not  appear.  I  imagined,  there- 
fore, that  Messer  Francesco  was  somewhat 
suspicious  on  account  of  my  sudden  depar- 
ture, and  that  my  lady,  notwithstanding  what 
he  had  said,  feared  to  give  him  any  cause  of 
offence. 

At  length,  one  morning  when  I  awoke,  I 
found  a  letter  lying  on  my  pillow  with  my 
name  written  upon  it  in  the  hand  of  Salai 
and  within  it  another  from  my  lady.  I  read 
the  latter  first,  and  this  was  its  content. 

"To-morrow  I  go  to  Florence  for  I  can  no 
longer  remain  here.  As  soon  as  I  am  able 
to  see  you,  I  will  send  you  word.  Then,  I 
pray  you,  come  at  once." 

The  brevity  of  the  letter  and  her  not  put- 
ting her  own  name  or  mine  upon  it,  recalled 
to  my  mind  what  she  had  written  concerning 
Salai.  I  then  read  his  letter,  which  was  as 
follows : 

184 


LISA  185 

"  Beloved  Master,  do  not  think  me  ungrate- 
ful because  I  go  away  without  asking  your 
permission  or  bidding  you  farewell.  But  I 
cannot  bear  to  see  you  now,  or  to  endure 
your  searching  eyes.  Perhaps  at  some 
future  time  I  may  be  able  to  return  once 
more  in  the  same  spirit  in  which  I  have  lived 
so  long  with  you — your  creature — grateful 
to  you  because  you  have  made  me  what  I  am, 
and  loving  you  because  of  your  goodness 
and  greatness.  But  now  it  is  your  very 
goodness  and  greatness  that  drive  me  away 
from  you,  since  it  is  because  of  them  you 
have  won  the  heart  and  soul  of  the  lady  I 
worship.  I  know  that  she  cares  somewhat 
for  me,  but  that  is  because  I  can  sing  your 
songs  and  can  talk  to  her  of  you,  and  so 
bring  you  near  to  her.  For,  when  we  were 
together,  she  would  talk  of  nothing  else  but 
you,  and  if  I  spoke  of  myself  or  of  other 
things,  her  mind  would  wander  and  she  was 
not  content.  I  know  what  you  have  said 
about  jealousy,  I  know  that  it  is  an  insane 
passion;  but  still  I  have  fallen  a 'victim  to 
that  madness,  and  I  can  no  longer  endure 
to  hear  your  name  mentioned,  especially  by 
our  lady,  who  loves  you  more  than  anyone 


186  MONNA  LISA 

in  the  world.  And  yet  she  has  favored  me 
much — not  on  my  account,  but  on  yours— 
and  therein  lies  the  part  of  my  suffering  that 
is  most  cruel — to  know  that  this  does  not 
belong  to  me,  but  to  another — to  you, — you, 
whom  she  loves  so  madly,  that  I  fear  she  may 
not  live  unless  she  can  soon  behold  you 
again.  She  is  indeed  very  ill — a  strange 
fever — and  no  one  here  knows  what  to  do. 
So  Messer  Francesco  will  take  her  early  to- 
morrow morning  to  Florence.  She  gave  me 
the  letter  I  have  enclosed  in  this,  and  made 
me  swear  solemnly  that  I  would  deliver  it  to 
no  one  but  you.  And  this  I  shall  do,  for  I 
cannot  disobey  my  lady.  But  I  cannot  bear 
to  speak  with  you,  or  to  have  your  search- 
ing eyes  behold  the  secret  of  my  heart,  so 
when  you  read  this  I  shall  be  on  my  way  to 
my  people  in  Milan.  Yet,  beloved  Master, 
believe  me,  I  have  not  forgotten  one  of  the 
many  benefits  you  have  heaped  upon  me,  and 
for  which  I  have  repaid  you  badly  so  often. 
I  love  you,  and  I  love  my  lady,  but  I  can- 
not endure  to  see  you  two  again  together. 
And  therefore :  Addio. 

Your  creature, 

"ANDREA  SALAI." 


LISA  187 

With  my  heart  filled  with  pity  for  the 
youth  and  yet  consumed  with  anxiety  for  my 
lady,  I  waited  in  my  house  all  day,  hoping 
that  some  message  might  come  from  her ;  but 
I  did  not  go  out  to  meet  her,  because  of  her 
letter,  which  made  me  dread  anything  that 
mayhap  might  bring  trouble  to  her. 

Shortly  before  sunset  Messer  Francesco 
came,  and,  thinking  that  he  might  bear  a  mes- 
sage from  my  lady,  I  went  to  meet  him  with 
a  joyful  face,  holding  out  my  hand.  But,  he, 
refusing  it  with  scorn,  burst  forth  in  anger, 
bestowing  upon  me  every  name  of  contempt 
and  loathing  possible.  This  I  bore  with 
patience,  waiting  to  learn  the  cause  of  his 
rage;  but  when  he  went  on  to  join  my  lady's 
name  to  mine,  together  with  such  blasphemy 
that  I  will  not  write,  I  sternly  ordered  him 
to  cease.  Then  he  sprang  at  me  with  his 
dagger ;  but  I,  grasping  his  hand,  twisted  the 
weapon  from  his  clasp,  and,  breaking  the 
blade  thereof  between  my  fingers,  handed 
him  the  fragments  and  bade  him  go.  So  he 
departed. 


XII 

FRANCESCO'S  STORY 

AFTER  Messer  Francesco  had  been  gone  a 
little  while,  I  girded  on  my  sword  and  walked 
forth.  I  crossed  the  Piazza  of  Santa  Maria, 
and,  turning  into  the  Via  dell'  Amore,  I  kept 
on  my  way  past  the  house  of  the  Giocondi 
to  San  Lorenzo,  and  so  on  by  way  of  the 
Via  del  Martelli  to  the  Batisterio.  Finding 
there  some  persons  with  whom  I  was  ac- 
quainted, I  spent  a  little  time  in  conversa- 
tion, and  then,  when  darkness  was  falling, 
I  departed  homewards,  again  passing  by  the 
house  where  my  lady  lay.  No  one  molested 
me  either  going  or  coming.  Only — when  I 
was  in  the  Via  dei  Gigli  I  thought  I  heard 
rapid  footsteps  behind  me,  and,  turning  sud- 
denly, was  certain  that  I  saw  a  man  dart 
into  a  dark  doorway.  It  may  have  been 
Messer  Francesco,  or  someone  sent  to  waylay 
me,  and  again,  this  man's  movements  may 
have  had  nothing  to  do  with  me. 

188 


LISA  189 

When  I  reached  my  house  I  ordered  the 
servants  to  admit  no  one  without  first  com- 
ing to  me;  and  after  supper  I  tossed  about 
on  my  bed,  but  could  not  sleep,  because  of 
thinking  of  my  lady  and  of  what  might  be 
her  condition  in  this  strange  turn  of  affairs. 
I  knew  I  could  do  nothing  that  night  which 
might  not  be  turned  to  her  injury,  but  I  re- 
solved that  on  the  morrow  I  would  find  some 
means  of  meeting  Messer  Francesco  when 
the  first  transports  of  his  rage  should  have 
subsided,  and  he  would  be  able  to  listen  to 
a  rational  statement  of  the  matter,  and  could 
be  made  to  see  that  his  charges  against  my 
lady  were  without  foundation.  I  did  not 
meditate  much  upon  this  matter  which  only 
concerned  me  and  Messer  Francesco,  because 
my  mind  was  occupied  with  thoughts  of  my 
lady  and  of  her  sad  state. 

About  midnight  there  was  a  loud  knock- 
ing at  my  door,  and  Tommaso  coming  to  me 
said  that  Messer  Francesco  was  without,  and 
wished  to  see  me  immediately.  I  thereupon 
asked  if  he  had  any  people  with  him,  and, 
upon  Tommaso 's  replying  that  he  was  alone, 
I  ordered  him  to  be  admitted. 

When  Messer  Francesco  entered  he  came 


190  MONNA  LISA 

toward  me,  holding  out  his  hand  and  saying 
in  a  humble  tone : 

"  Master  Leonardo,  I  come  first  to  ask 
your  forgiveness  for  the  wrong  I  have  done 
you,  and  this  I  am  sure  you  will  grant  when 
you  have  heard  fully  what  I  have  come  to 
say." 

I  pressed  his  hand  warmly,  for  I  saw  that 
the  man  was  oppressed  by  a  heavy  sorrow, 
and  asked  him  to  proceed. 

"Master  Leonardo,"  he  said,  and  as  he 
went  on  his  words  were  often  interrupted 
by  sobs  and  groans,  "to-day  I  brought  my 
wife  to  the  city,  for  her  sickness  had  in- 
creased greatly  since  your  departure,  and  be- 
cause we  both  believed  she  could  have  better 
care  here  than  in  the  country.  But,  in  spite 
of  all  I  could  do  to  make  the  journey  easy, 
she  was  so  overcome  by  fatigue  that  on  en- 
tering the  house  she  straightway  fainted. 
As  her  women  were  unlacing  her,  a  little 
packet  of  letters  fell  from  her  bosom,  which 
I  having  picked  up  saw  were  in  your  hand 
and  so  hid  them  in  my  doublet.  As  soon  as 
she  was  laid  in  her  bed  and  the  physician 
had  arrived,  I,  driven  by  suspicion,  retired 
to  my  room  to  examine  them.  I  read  the 


LISA  191 

first  letter,  from  which,  as  you  well  know, 
I  learned  that  you  two  loved  and  had  kissed 
each  other.  I  could  read  no  further,  but 
blinded  with  rage  I  straightway  rushed 
hither,  thinking  of  nothing  but  to  slay  you. 
When  I  departed  from  you,  being  defeated 
by  your  marvellous  strength  and  magnanim- 
ity, I  raged  all  the  more,  and  hastening 
home,  determined  to  charge  Lisa  with  dis- 
honoring me.  I  found  her  still  unconscious, 
and  the  physician  fearing  that  she  would 
pass  away.  At  last,  late  in  the  evening, 
when  she  recovered  from  her  swoon,  the  first 
thing  she  did  was  to  feel  for  her  letters,  and, 
finding  they  were  gone,  she  turned  to  me  and 
asked  if  I  had  them.  In  reply  I  told  her 
briefly  what  I  had  done,  smothering  as  well 
as  I  was  able  my  rage  which  was  still  hot, 
and  adding  that  I  would  not  rest  until  I  had 
compassed  your  death.  With  a  sad  smile 
she  bade  me  read  them  all  and  then  to  re- 
turn to  her.  This  I  did,  and,  Master  Leo- 
nardo, you  who  wrote  these  letters  know  well 
that  though  they  tell  of  the  great  love  you 
bear  my  Lisa,  and  of  the  great  love  she  has 
for  you,  yet  there  is  nothing  in  them  that 
could  in  any  way  dishonor  the  house  of  the 


192  MONNA  LISA 

Giocondi,  but  that,  on  the  contrary,  these 
very  letters  are  a  faithful  witness  that  you 
have  protected  my  honor  against  your  own 
self.  And  so,  filled  with  shame  and  remorse, 
I  returned  to  Lisa's  bedside  and  craved  for- 
giveness, which  she,  in  the  goodness  of  her 
heart,  granted  forthwith.  Then  I  asked  if 
there  was  anything  I  could  do  to  make 
amends  to  her  and  to  you  for  the  wrong  I 
had  done.  And  she  replied  that  first  she 
wished  me  to  give  you  your  letters — behold! 
here  they  are! — and  then  that  she  desired 
above  all  things  to  see  you  again,  and  that 
we  three  should  be  once  more  united  in 
friendship  before  she  should  pass  away. 
And  you  will  come,  Master,  for  I  fear  she 
lies  at  the  point  of  death.  .  .  ." 


XIII 

THE     BIRTH     OF     A     SOUL 

.  .  .  WHEN  Francesco  had  left  us,  my 
lady  said  to  her  nurse:  "Go  into  the  next 
room  Maria,  Master  Leonardo  will  watch  by 
me  and  will  call  you  if  there  is  need."  And 
when  we  were  alone  she  turned  to  me  and 
said:  "Leonardo,  my  beloved,  come  near  to 
me  and  take  my  hand.  Before  Francesco  re- 
turns with  the  priest  I  must  make  a  confes- 
sion to  you,  so  that  you  also  may  forgive  me 
and  grant  me  absolution." 

"It  is  not  necessary,  my  lady,"  I  replied, 
' '  There  is  nothing  you  can  have  done  or  that 
could  have  befallen  you  that  is  able  to  change 
my  love.  I  love  you,  carissima  mia,  and 
shall  ever  love  you.  I  can  say  no  more." 

"But  still  I  must  tell  you,  for  I  desire  you 
to  love  me,  knowing  me  all  in  all.  I  do  not 
desire  you  to  love  a  creature  of  your  own 
imagination,  but  to  love  me — myself — just 
as  I  am — Lisa.  And  so  listen,  my  beloved. 

193 


194  MONNA  LISA 

Even  before  the  time  I  first  saw  you  in  Santa 
Maria  I  loved  you  for  your  works,  for  your 
fame.  When  I  saw  you  standing  by  the 
church  door  you  were  to  me  a  revelation — 
with  your  face  like  a  god;  and  all  that  Salai 
told  me  concerning  you  made  me  love  you 
more.  And  when  I  came  to  your  studio  the 
love  grew  stronger  each  day  as  I  began  to 
have  more  knowledge  of  you.  But  with  all 
this  ever  growing  love  there  was  a  fear — 
just  as  the  old  Zingara  said — a  fear  of  you 
because  you  are  so  great,  a  fear  lest  if  you 
should  come  to  know  me  as  I  knew  your 
great  open  soul,  you  would  think  little  of  me 
and  cast  me  aside." 

"Lisa,"  I  interrupted,  "that  is  impos- 
sible." 

' '  I  know  it  now — you  are  right — but  I  did 
not  know  it  then.  The  fear  was  there, 
gnawing  at  my  heart  and  often  making  me 
refrain  from  words  that  I  was  longing  to 
utter.  And  out  of  this  fear  grew  a  desire, 
a  desire  to  gain  power  over  you, — you,  the 
mighty  Leonardo,  and  so  hold  you  bound  to 
me  as  I  hold  Francesco  and  could  hold  many 
others  that  I  know.  And  there  was  within 
me  a  conflict — you  recall  the  Cavern  on  Mon- 


LISA  195 

gibello,  beloved, — on  the  one  hand  fear  of 
what  might  befall  and  on  the  other  an  ever 
growing  longing  to  throw  myself  into  your 
arms  and  give  myself  all  in  all  to  you,  re- 
gardless of  whether  I  should  find  heaven  or 
hell.  Now,  let  me  rest  a  little  space,  my  be- 
loved,— my  strength  is  going,  and  I  must  tell 
you  all." 

I  pressed  her  hand  and  sat  silent  waiting, 
while  my  lady  closed  her  eyes  and  rested, 
breathing  quietly.  Then,  after  a  time,  her 
eyes  opened  again,  and  looking  at  me  stead- 
fastly she  continued:  ''You  remember,  my 
beloved,  that  night  in  this  house  when  I  came 
to  you.  Your  calm  self  restraint  at  the  last 
sitting  had  been  to  my  longing  as  oil  to  fire. 
I  knew  that  I  could  never  conquer  you,  and 
that  my  highest  glory  would  be  to  give  my- 
self to  you.  You  remember  how  I  came. 
As  I  bent  toward  you  I  thought  you  drew 
back,  and  a  chill  flood  of  fear  overwhelmed 
me.  Then — God  be  praised! — you,  too, 
leaned  toward  me,  and  your  lips  met  mine. 
That  was  the  one  perfect  moment  in  my  life. 
Now  wait. — 

"0  my  beloved,"  she  said  after  a  space, 
''when  I  came  up  to  our  villa  and  knew  you 


196  MONNA  LISA 

were  in  Florence,  I  could  not  live  without 
you  after  our  long  separation.  I  wanted 
you — just  you — to  be  near  me  and  to  gladden 
me  with  the  light  of  your  eyes  and  the  music 
of  your  voice.  I  had  no  fear;  for  was  not 
Francesco  there? — and  you  remember  how 
happy  I  was.  But  when  Francesco  departed, 
once  more  the  fear  returned.  You  were  so 
great  and  I  so  little.  And  that  night — in 
the  loggia — as  the  moon  went  down — I  who 
had  been  so  happy,  sitting  there  beside  you, 
holding  your  hand  even  as  now,  our  spirits 
communing  in  the  silence — I,  the  little,  fear- 
ful Lisa,  was  seized  with  a  sudden  desire — 
the  desire  to  know  if  you  were  a  man  like 
other  men — the  desire  to  sway  you  as  I  had 
swayed  others — and — when  I  found  that  you 
were  indeed  a  man — the  only  man  who  could 
move  me  to  the  innermost  depths — for  a 
moment — yes,  for  a  moment — the  bliss  was 
so  great  that  I  cared  not  for  God  or  Satan 
— only  you — only  you,  my  beloved.  Then 
suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  the  ecstasy,  the  old 
fear  seized  me — and  I  fled — I,  who  had 
called  you — yes,  my  beloved,  you  were  right 
— I  had  called  you — and  I — I  fled  from 
heaven  to  hell — knowing  only  too  well  that 


LISA  197 

you  alone  could  save  me.  When  I  called 
from  the  window,  you,  you  did  not  hear — but 
Salai  heard. — Now,  wait  a  moment  more — I 
must  tell  you  what  then  befell — and  yet,  it  is 
very  hard — " 

"My  Lisa,  my  beloved,  there  is  no  need 
that  you  should  tell  me.  I  know  what  be- 
fell, and—" 

"Has  Salai  told  you?"  she  cried  anxiously, 
half  raising  herself. 

"No,  my  beloved,"  I  replied  as  I  made  her 
lie  down  again.  "I  have  not  seen  him  since 
that  night.  But  from  your  letters — " 

"You  know  it! — and  you  do  not  love  me 
less?  Leonardo!" 

"I  know  it!  And  I  should  love  you  even 
more,  if  that  were  possible,  my  Lisa,  since  it 
was  because  of  your  love  for  me." 

A  look  of  unutterable  happiness  dawned 
in  her  face  as  I  bent  over  her  and  took  both 
her  hands  in  mine.  For  a  time  we  looked 
into  each  other's  eyes  and  said  no  word.  At 
length  slowly  and  faintly  but  with  a  firm 
voice  my  lady  spoke: 

"Leonardo,  my  beloved,  you  are  above  all 
men.  Now  I  can  give  myself  to  you  in  the 
manner  you  desire,  freely,  joyfully,  delib- 


198  MONNA  LISA 

erately,  even  as  a  loving  bride  goes  to  her 
beloved  spouse.  Take  me,  take  me,  Leo- 
nardo, my  beloved  spouse.  Take  me  in  your 
arms, — and  kiss  me." 

I  lifted  her  in  my  arms, — and  our  lips  met. 
And  then  I  saw  the  woman  soul. 

"Let  me  rest  in  your  arms,  my  beloved, 
until  you  hear  them  coming  in  the  street. 
Then  you  may  lay  me  down  and  call  Maria. 
But  now — let  me  rest  on  your  breast — for 
at  last  I  am  at  peace. ' ' 


XIV 

THE     PORTRAIT 

.  .  .  SOON  after  Fra  Jacopo  departed 
my  lady  closed  her  eyes  in  a  quiet  slumber. 
It  was  now  daybreak,  and  I  betook  myself 
homewards,  after  telling  Messer  Francesco 
that  I  would  not  leave  my  house  during  the 
day. 

As  I  entered  the  studio  I  beheld  the  por- 
trait of  my  lady  upon  the  easel,  and,  the 
image  of  her  face  in  that  last  look  appear- 
ing before  me  as  if  in  reality,  I  took  my 
brush  and  colors  and  set  to  work  upon  the 
picture.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  this  were 
what  she  would  have  me  do.  And  now  at  last 
what  I  had  labored  for  so  long  began  to  ap- 
pear under  my  brush.  I  worked  steadily, 
without  haste  but  with  great  sureness, 
throughout  the  day,  and  just  before  sunset 
I  saw  that  I  could  do  no  more.  The  por- 
trait was  finished,  as  far  as  I  or  any  mortal 
could  carry  it,  but  it  was  still  unfinished,  in 

199 


200  MONNA  LISA 

that  it  is  impossible  to  portray  the  soul  com- 
pletely with  material  instruments  directed 
by  a  mortal  hand.  I  sat  there  gazing  at  my 
work,  and  in  the  fading  light  the  face  seemed 
to  become  alive;  it  smiled  upon  me  as  my 
lady  did  when  she  lay  in  my  arms,  and 
straightway  a  great  peace  filled  my 
spirit.  .  .  . 

Not  long  after  a  messenger  came  from 
Messer  Francesco  to  tell  me  that  my  lady 
was  gone.  She  had  not  awakened  from  the 
peaceful  slumber  into  which  she  had  fallen 
at  dawn,  and  had  passed  away  about  sunset, 
so  quietly  that  no  one  knew  the  time  of  her 
departure.  .  .  . 


XV 

CONCLUSION 

.  .  .  I  COULD  not  remain  in  Florence. 
I  had  no  heart  to  begin  work  again  on  the 
battle  picture,  and  I  could  not  endure  to  be- 
hold the  places  which  had  known  my  lady's 
presence  and  were  now  blank  and  empty. 
His  Excellency,  the  Cardinal  of  Amboise, 
had  long  been  desiring  me  to  come  to  Milan, 
and,  as  the  Signory  could  not  afford  to  dis- 
please the  French,  through  his  intercession 
I  obtained  a  leave  of  absence  for  three 
months  on  the  30th  of  May,  1506.  As  soon 
as  I  could  put  my  affairs  in  order  I  left 
Florence  and  have  never  since  returned  there 
to  dwell,  though  on  several  occasions  I  was 
forced  to  visit  the  city  because  of  business, 
— notably  the  law  suit,  which  my  half 
brothers  had  instituted  to  deprive  me  of 
what  my  father  had  bequeathed  me  and  also 
of  a  little  inheritance  received  from  my  Uncle 

Francesco.    I  succeeded  finally  in  upholding 
201 


202  MONNA  LISA 

my  rights;  but  I  have  left  the  property  to 
them  in  my  will,  and  may  they  enjoy  it. 

I  was  also  obliged  to  return  to  get  to- 
gether a  sum  of  money,  since  the  Gon- 
falonier had  charged  me  with  defrauding  the 
treasury  of  Florence  of  money  paid  me  for 
a  picture  I  did  not  paint.  But  when  I  of- 
fered him  the  entire  amount  he  refused  to 
receive  it.  As  for  the  picture  itself  I  rejoice 
that  I  did  not  finish  it,  for  when  the  Medici 
returned  to  power  in  1513,  and  the  poor 
Gonfalonier  Soderini,  had  to  flee  for  his  life, 
they  turned  the  Hall  of  the  Grand  Council 
into  a  barrack  for  their  soldiery,  who  again 
hold  Florence  enslaved.  And  though  Mes- 
ser  Giuliano  dei  Medici,  who  called  himself 
my  friend,  caused  a  fence  of  boards  to  be 
placed  before  that  part  of  the  picture  which 
was  completed ;  yet  he  in  his  turn  has  passed 
away,  and  I  know  it  will  not  be  long  before 
the  picture,  like  my  Cavallo  in  Milan  will 
be  destroyed.  But  whenever  I  was  obliged 
to  go  to  Florence  I  remained  there  as  brief 
a  space  as  possible,  and  never  went  into  the 
quarters  where  I  had  been  wont  to  see  my 
lady.  .  .  . 

In  Milan,  Salai  came  to  me,  and  I  received 


LISA  203 

him  with  love,  though  he  feared  that  I  might 
turn  him  away;  but  that  was  not  possible, 
since  he  had  but  lived  his  life  to  the  best  of 
the  light  that  was  given  him,  even  as  my 
lady  had  lived  hers,  and  I  live  mine.  Still, 
though  I  showed  him  much  love,  he  was 
never  what  he  was  before,  and  he  never  men- 
tioned the  name  of  my  lady.  He  assisted  me 
much  with  my  work  and  accompanied  me  to 
Eome  when  I  went  there  with  11  Magnifico 
Giuliano ;  but  when  I  at  last  left  Italy  to  come 
into  France,  he  remained  behind  at  Milan, 
having  built  himself  a  house  in  my  vineyard 
that  is  without  the  gates,  and  the  moiety  of 
which  I  have  bequeathed  to  him  in  my  will. 
His  place  was  taken  by  my  beloved  Francesco 
di  Melzi,  who  did  much  to  cheer  me  by  his 
beauty  and  gayety  when  I  first  came  to  Milan 
from  Florence  in  1506,  and  who  is  now  with 
me  and  will  remain  with  me  in  love  to  the 
end. 

Before  I  left  Italy,  I  learned  that  Messer 
Francesco,  who  had  consoled  himself  by  mar- 
rying again,  had  sold  the  portrait  of  my  lady. 
I  therefore  purchased  it,  but  the  new  owner, 
who  truly  had  some  idea  of  its  value,  made 
me  pay  the  sum  of  four  thousand  gold 


204  MONNA  LISA 

crowns.  This  sum  was  advanced  to  me  by 
the  most  Christian  King,  and  the  picture  is 
to  pass  into  his  hands,  for  only  a  great  king 
is  worthy  to  possess  the  portrait  of  my  lady 
when  I  shall  pass  away.  .  .  . 

And  so  I  learned  through  my  lady  what 
a  woman  soul  might  be.  Instead  of  truth 
and  justice  which  is  the  goal  of  man's  virtu, 
woman's  end  is  love — love  wiih  truth  and 
justice  if  that  be  possible,  but  love  trans- 
cending truth  and  justice  if  it  be  not.  And 
indeed  it  seems  to  me  a  good  thing  that  it 
is  so,  for  a  world  ruled  only  by  clear  truth 
and  stern  justice  would  be  but  a  sorry  place 
and  impossible  to  be  dwelt  in  by  most 
human  beings.  Love  is  the  creator,  the  en- 
folder,  the  developer,  the  cherisher  of  all  the 
beauty  and  tenderness  and  sweetness  of  life, 
and  is  the  virtu  that  transcends  all  others 
and  that  saves  the  world.  This  was  seen  by 
our  Lord  Christ,  who  said  ...  In  the 
struggle  for  perfection  the  woman  should 
strive  to  attain  the  manly  virtu  of  truth  and 
justice,  and  the  man  should  strive  to  attain 
the  woman's  virtu  of  love.  Therefore,  be- 
fore my  right  hand  failed  me,  I  put  into  color 
my  cartoon  of  the  Madonna  and  Saint  Anne, 


LISA  205 

and  also  painted  the  little  picture  of  Saint 
John  the  Baptist,  a  man — yet  with  all  the 
woman  soul  within  him — pointing  upward 
to  the  new  light  which  is  to  come.  But  no 
man  who  has  seen  this  last  picture  can  un- 
derstand it,  and  I  know  that  most  men  will 
fail  to  grasp  its  full  meaning;  for  most  men 
are  like  monkeys,  who,  when  they  receive  a 
new  thing,  can  make  nothing  of  it  unless  they 
can  put  it  to  their  noses,  in  order  to  smell 
it  and  discover  if  it  is  good  to  eat.  It  is  my 
belief,  however,  that  in  the  future,  men  will 
arise,  and  women  also,  who  will  understand 
the  message  of  this  picture  of  the  Baptist. 


I  have  made  my  peace  with  the  Holy 
Church,  and  when  I  die  shall  pass  away  like 
my  lady  with  the  ministrations  of  her  priests ; 
for  I  now  see  that  the  Church,  with  all  her 
errors,  all  her  superstitions,  all  her  corrup- 
tion and  debauchery  in  high  places,  all  her 
trickery  and  her  deceiving  of  the  poor  and 
ignorant,  is  the  one  power  in  this  world  which 
upholds  and  spreads  the  law  of  love — the 
law  which  our  Lord  Christ  taught,  and  his 
holy  apostles  preached — the  law  which  filled 


206  MONNA  LISA 

the  heart  of  my  lady  and  gave  her  peace 
when  her  spirit  passed  above  the  heavens. 

And  I,  being  filled  with  this  new  faith, 
which  is  not  like  the  blind  faith  of  my  child- 
hood, but  is  founded  on  my  fullest,  truest 
knowledge,  the  knowledge  of  life,  I  am  begin- 
ning to  cherish  the  hope  that  when  my  spirit 
shall  abandon  this  body,  its  creature  and  in- 
strument, it  shall  meet  again  the  spirit  of  my 
lady  somewhere,  somehow, — and  then,  that 
my  soul  shall  know  her  soul  in  very  truth  and 
love,  since  all  earthly  impediment  shall  have 
been  transcended.  Vale. 


A    000110151 


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Universit 
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Libra] 


